m 




Qass—., 
Book_- 



/ 



I 



ti^' 



% 



^ 



■%: 






.^. 



^^ ^u ^ ^*,<.*~x^ ^ 



'^ 



<2t»- ^ 



^ ^ ►^ ' ""^^ 





V 




^ 


> 

^1 ~ 






■ k 


1 

> V 

-^ 

--> 









s^ 



CONVERSATIONS 



OF 



LORD BYEjON^l.^ 

NOTED 
DURING A RESIDENCE WITH HIS LORDSHIP 

AT PISA, 

IN THE YEARS 1821 AND 1822. 

BY THOMAS MEDWIN, ESQ. 

OF THE 24th LIGHT DRAGOONS, 
AUTHOR or " AHASUEPUS THE WANDERER." 



A NEW EDITION. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, 

NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 

1824. 



PREFACE, 



" A great poet belongs to no country ; 
his works are public property, and his 
Memoirs the inheritance of the public." 
Such were the sentiments of Lord Byron ; 
and have they been attended to ? Has 
not a manifest injustice been done to the 
world, and an injury to his memory, by the 
destruction of his Memoirs ? These are 
questions which it is now late, perhaps 
needless, to ask ; but I will endeavour to 
lessen, if not to remedy, the evil. 

I am aware that in publishing these 
reminiscences I shall have to contend with 
much obloquy from some parts of his 



vm PREFACE. 

family, — that I shall incur the animosity of 
many of his friends. There are authors, 
too, who will not be pleased to find their 
names in print, — to hear his real opinion 
of themselves, or of their works. There 

are others But I have the satisfaction 

of feeling that I have set about executing 
the task I have undertaken, conscientious- 
ly : I mean neither to throw a veil over 
his errors, nor a gloss over his virtues. 

/ 
My sketch will be an imperfect and a 
rough one, it is true, but it will be from 
the life; and slight as it is, may prove 
more valuable, perhaps, than a finished 
drawing from memory. It will be any 
thing but a panegyric : my aim is to paint 
him as he was. That his passions were 
violent and impetuous, cannot be denied ; 
but his feelings and affections were equally 



PREFACE. ix 

strong. Both demanded continual em- 
ployment; and he had an impatience of 
repose, a '' restlessness of rest," that kept 
them in constant activity. It is satisfactory 
too, at least it is some consolation, to 
reflect, that the last energies of his nature 
were consumed in the cause of hberty, and 
for the benefit of mankind. 

How I became acquainted with so many 
particulars of his history, so many incidents 
of his life, so many of his opinions, is easi- 
ly explained. They were communicated 
during a period of many months' familiar 
intercourse, without any injunctions to 
secrecy, and committed to paper for the 
sake of reference only. They have not 
been shewn to any one individual, and but 
for the fate of his MS. would never have 
appeared before the pubhc. 



X PREFACE. 

I despise mere writing for the sake of 
book-making, and have disdained to swell 
out my materials into volumes. 1 have 
given his ideas as I noted them down at 
the time, — in his own words, as far as my 
recollection served. 

They are however, in many cases, the 
substance without the form. The bril- 
liancy of his wit, the flow of his eloquence, 
the sallies of his imagination, who could 
do justice to? His voice, his manner, 
which gave a charm to the whole, who 
could forget ? 

" His subtle talk would cheer the winter night, 
And make me know myself ; and the fire-hght 
^Vould flash upon our faces, till the day 
Might daAvn, and make me wonder at my stay." 
Shelley's Julia?! and Maddalo. 

Geneva, 1st August, 1824. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

The Writer's arrival at Pisa. Lord Byron's live- 
stock and impediments. The Lanfranchi pa- 
lace; Ugolino; Lanfranchi's ghost. An English 
Cerberus. Lord B.'sLeporello; bas reliefs and 
mantel-pieces 1 — 4 

Introduction to Lord Byron. His cordiality of 
manner. Description of his person ; his bust 
by Bertolini; the cloven foot; his Lordship's 
temperate habits, and regard for the brute cre- 
ation. Conversations on Switzerland and Ger- 
many; strong predilection for Turkey . . . 4 — 10 

Residence at Geneva. Malicious intruders. Ma- 
dame de Stael. Dinner disaster. Excursions 
on the Lake ; Shelley and Hobhouse ; St. Preux 
and Julia ; classical drowning. Lord Byron's 
horsemanship ; pistol-firing ; remarks on duel- 
ling ; hir, own duels. Anecdote 10 — Mrt 

Sunset at Venice and Pisa. Routine of Lord By- 
ron's life. The Countess Guiccioli : Lord B.'s 
attachment to her; Sonnet, and Stanzas in 
honour of her. Cavalieri Serventi. Mode 



Xll COSITENTS. 

Page 

of bringing up Italian females; its conse- 
quences. Italian propensity to love. Inti- 
macy with the Countess : her rescue . . . 16 26 

Lord Byron's preference for Ravenna. Female 
beauty in Italy and England compared. The 
Constitutionalists ; their proscription. Lord 
Byron's danger. Assassination of the military 
Commandant at Ravenna. Lord B.*s huma- 
nity 26—32 

The Byron Memoirs: Mr. Moore, Lady Burg- 
hersh, and Lady Byron. Lord B.'s opinion of 
his own iMemoirs, his marriage and separation. 
Mrs. Williams, the English Sybil. An omen. 
Lord B.'s introduction to Miss Milbanke; his 

courtship and marriage 32 — 37 

The wedding-ring. An uneasy ride. The honey- 
moon. Lord and Lady B.'s fashionable dissipa- 
tion ; consequent embarrassment ; final separa- 
tion. Lord B.'s prejudices respecting women. 
Family jars; Mrs. Charlement. Singular do- 
mestic scrutiny. Mrs. JMardyn. Statute of 
lunacy happily avoided. Lady Noel's hatred : 

anecdote 37 — 47 

Lady Byron's abilities. Lord B.'s various counter- 
parts. " The Examiner," and Lady Jersey. 
Sale of Newstead Abbey; his Lordship's de- 
parture from England 48 — 52 

Madame de Stael and Goethe. Lord B.'s parti- 
ality for America ; curious specimen of Ameri- 
can criticism. The ' Sketches of Italy.' Lord 
B.'s life at Venice ; further remarks on his 
Memoirs 53—56 



CONTENTS. xm 

Page 

Anecdotes of himself and companions : Lord Falk- 
land. Lord B.'s presentiments; early horror 
of matrimony; anti-matrimonial wager. Anec- 
dotes of his father. Craniology. Anecdote of 
his uncle. Early love for Scotland: Mary 

C . Harrow School; Duke of Dorset; 

Lords Clare and Calthorpe ; school rebellion . 57—68 

The *^ Hours of Idleness.' The skull goblet; a 
new order established at Newstead. Julia Al- 
pinula. Skulls from the field of Morat. Lord 
B.'s contempt for academic honours ; his bear ; 
the ourang-outang. A lady in masquerade. 
Mrs. L. G.'s depravity. Singular occurrence. 
Comparison of English and Italian profligacy . 69 — 75 

Fashionable pastimes ; Hell in St. James's Street; 
chicken-hazard. Scrope Davies, and Lord 
B.'s pistols ; the deodand. Lord B. commences 
his travels. His opinion of Venice. His own 
and Napoleon's opinion of women. The new 
Fornarina; Harlowe the painter. Gallantry 
sometimes dangerous at Venice 75 — 83 

Lord Byron's religious opinions; his scepticism 
only occasional. English Cathedral Service. 
Religion of Tasso and Milton. Missionary So- 
cietiesj and missions to the East. Te?itazione 
di Sani* Antonio. Tacitus ; Priestley and Wes- 
ley. Dying moments of Johnson^ Cowper, 
Hume, Voltaire, and Creech. Sale. Anything- 
arians ; Gibbon ; Plato's three principles. Lord 
B.'s correspondents ; ecstatic epistolary extract. 
Prayer for Lord B.'s conversion ; his Lordship's 
avowal of being a Christian 84 — ^95 



Xiv CONTENTS. 

Page 
All Paclui's l)arbarity. Affecting tale. Real 

incident in ' The Giaour.* Albanian guards. 
The doctor in alarm. Lord Byron's ghost. He 
prophecies that he should die in Greece. Lord 
Byron and the Drury Lane Committee. Thea- 
tricals. Obstacles to writing for the stage. 
Keniblc; ^Irs. Siddons ; ]\Iunden ; Shakspeare ; 
Alfieri ; IMaturin ; IMiss Baillie. oModern sen- 
sitiveness. ' IMarino Faliero.' Ugo Foscolo . 86 — 113 

Lord Byron's daughter Ada. Singular coincidence. 
Ideas on education. Ada's birth-day. Lord B.'s 
melancholy and superstition. Birth-day fatali- 
ties. Death of Polidori. ' The Vampyre' — 
foundation of the story Lord Byron's : ' Franken- 
stein, or the Modern Prometheus.' Query to Sir 
Humphrey Davy. Scott, Rousseau, and Goethe. 
Fidfilment of Mrs. Williams's prophecy. Un- 
lucky numbers 114 — 124 

Lord Byron's epigrams. His hospitality. Ad- 
vances towards a reconciliation with Lady By- 
ron. Death of Lady Noel. Lord Byron's re- 
marks on lyric poetry; Coleridge, Moore, and 
Campbell. Ode on Sir John Moore's funeral . 125 — 135 

Swimming across the Hellespont. Adventures at 
Brighton and Venice. * Marino Faliero' and 
' The Two Foscari.' Hogg the Ettrick Shep- 
herd's predicticm. Failure of ' Marino Faliero:' 
Lord Byron's epigram on the occasion. Louis 
Dix-huit's translation : Jeffrey's critique. Quar- 
terly and Edinburgh Reviews. Subjects for 
tragedies 136 — 14; 



CONTENTS. XV 

Page 

Barry Cornwall. 'Cain.' Gessner's ' Death of 
Abel.' Hobhouse's opinion of ^ Cain.' Lord 
B.'s defence of that poem. Goethe's ' Faust.' 
Letter to Murray respecting ' Cain.' Baccha- 
nalian song. Private theatricals. The Defi- 
nite Article. A play proposed. The Guiccioli's 
Veto 148—162 

Merits of actors. Dowton and Kean. Kean's 
Richard the Third and Sir Giles Overreach. 
Garrick's dressing of Othello. Kemble's cos- 
tume; his Coriolanus and Cato: his colloquial 
blank- verse. Improvisatori : Theodore Hook : 
Sgricci j his ' Iphigenia.' Mrs. Siddons and 
Miss O'Neill. The elephant's legs. Stage 
courtship. Lamb's Specimens. Plagiarisms. 
'Faust' 162—171 

Lord Byron's ' Hours of Idleness.' The ineffec- 
tual potation. Severity of reviewers. ' English 
Bards and Scotch Reviewers.' Jeffrey and 
Moore. Moore's challenge to Lord Byron ; mis- • 

carriage of the letter; subsequent friendship. 
Character of Southey 171—186 

Mr. Southey's letter in ' The Literary Gazette.' 
Lord Byron's anxiety and anger. ' Vision of 
Judgment.' Southey's critique on ' Foliage.' 
Shelley's AQeoq. ' The Deformed Transformed:' 
Shelley's opinion thereon. Southey's epitaph. 
" Heaven and Earth.' Murray's refusal to 
print. ' Cain/ and the Lord Chancellor. 
' Loves of the Angels/ and Lalla Rookh.' Pro- 
jected completion of ' Heaven and Earth.' 



XVI CONTENTS. 

Page 
' The Prophecy of Dante.' Italian enthusiasm 

in favour of Dante 18(i — 199 

Shelley's opinion that tlie study of Dante is unfa- 
vourable to writing : the clilliculty of translating 
him : Taaffe and Cary. Lord Byron and ' The 
Prophecy of Dante.' Swedenborg's disciples. 
Translations of Lord Byron's works. The 
greatest compliment ever paid him. iNlilton 
and the cat's back. JMilton and Shakspeare re- 
diviv'i. Lord Byron's opinion of 'Childe Harold,' 
and the inequality of his own writings Epics. 
Southey's ^ Joan of Arc;' 'Curse of Kehama,' 
&c. ' Don Juan,' and the Iliad. Dr. Johnson's 
censorship defied. Intended ])lan of ' Don 
Juan :' adventures and death of the hero . . 199 — 203 

Murray's plea: the Cookery-book his sheet-anchor: 
real cause of his anxiety for Lord Byron's fame. 
Douglas Kinnaird's friendship. ^Murray's oflfer 
for ' Don Juan/ per Canto. Piracy of ' Don 
Juan/ and its cause. The bishops. ^Murray's 
dislike to Shelley. Price given for Third 
Canto of ' Childe Harold/ ' Manfred/ and 
' The Prisoner of Chillon' 203—207 

' The Quarterly Review' and its bullies. A lite- 
rary set-to. Murray and Galignani. Murray's 
purchase of ' Cain/ ' The Two Foscari/ and 
' Sardanapalus.' The deed. Reconciliation 
with Murray. ' Cain/ and the Anti-constitu- 
tional Society. Murray, Lord Byron, and the 
' Navy List.' Last book of Lord Byron's pub- 
lished by Murray. Expected opening fire of ' The 



CONTENTS. XVll 

Page 
Quarterly/ ' The Wanderer.' Coleridge's ' Chris- 
tabel/ and Scott's ' Metrical Tales.' Sir W. 
Scott's talents at recitation. An English Octo- 
ber day. Unconscious plagiarism. ' Kubla 
Khan.' Madame de Stael. Coleridge's Me- 
moirs. Grammont. Aliieri's Life^ and Lord 
B.'s Confe ssions. Coleridge's self-seeming want 
of identity. Poets in 1795 207-215 

Intended Auto dafe. Priestly charity. Duchess 
of Lucca. Lord Guilford. Grand Duke of 
Tuscany. Intended rescue ; escape of the vic- 
tim. Madame de Stael and the Opposition 
leaders in England : her ultraisms. BrummeU. 
Reported double marriage; Baron Auguste and 
Miss Milbanke ; Lord B. and the Duchess of 
Broglie. Madame de Staei's conversational 
powers. ^ Glenarvon.' Madame de Staei's 
amiable heart. Women^ and Opera figurantes : 
pirouetting common to both. Napoleon and Ma- 
dame de Stael. Lord B.'s opinion of Napoleon 
and of his exit. Madame de Staei's historical 
omission. Rocca 215-225 

Complaint against the East India Company. Lord 
B.'s liberality. Balloons and Horace. Steam. 
Philosophical systems. Romances. Lewis's 
'Monk:' its groundwork. Secret of Walter 
Scott's inspiration. / The Bleeding Nun.' 
Ghost stories : the haunted room at Manheim ; 
Mina and the passing-bell. Lewis and Ma- 
thias. *^Abellino.' ' Pizarro' and Sheridan. 
'The Castle Spectre' at Drury Lane. Lord 
B.'s sketch of Sheridan. The age of compa- 
b 



XVlll CONTENTS. 

niability. Monk Lewis and Lis brother's ghost. 
Madame de Stael, Lewis, and the Slave Trade. 
A fatal emetic 225-2:w; 

Imputed plagiarisms. A dose of Wordsworth 
physic. Shelley's admiration of Wordsworth. 
Peter Bell's ass, and the family circle. The 
Republican trio. Comparisons : the Botany 
Bay Eclogues, the Panegyric of Martin the Re- 
gicide, and ^ Wat Tyler,' versus the Laureate 
Odes and the Waterloo Eulogium. The par 
nobile mortally wounded. Hogg the Ettrick 
Shepherd's ' Poetic Mirror.' The ' Rejected 
Addresses.' Bowles : Coleridge's praise of him 
inexplicable. Bowles's good fellowship: his 
Madeira woods. Pope's Letters to Martha 
Blount. The evil attending a pjinnable name. 
Lord B.'s partiality to 'Johnson's Lives of the 
Poets.' No monument to Pope in Poet's Cor- 
ner : the reason. Milton's name in jeopardy. 
Voltaire's tomb locked up. Identity of a great 
poet and a religious man maintained .... 236-244 

Walter Scott's Novels. Rarity of Novelty. Pla- 
giarisms. Claims of Shakspeare and Sheridan. 
A good memory sometimes a misfortune. Lord 
Byron's partiality to W. Scot's novels. Scott, 
the great Unknown : two anecdotes in proof. 
Scott's prose fatal to his poetry : his versatility. 
' Halidon Hill.' Charlatanism in wTiting in- 
cognito. Junius. Sir Philip Francis: his 
conjugal felicity and marital affection. War- 
ren Hastings. ' Pursuits of Literature.' Monk 
Lewis and M'alter Scott. ' The Fire- King' and 



CONTENTS. XIX 

Page 
* Will Jones/ Walter Scott's obligation to 
Coleridge. His freedom from jealousy . . . 244-250 
Rogers ycleped a Nestor and an Argonaut. Ro- 
gers and the Catacombs. Lady Morgan's 
' Italy.' Immortality of ' The Pleasures of 
Memory.' '^ Jacqueline ' versus ' Lara.' Ro- 
gers too fastidious as to his fame. Grand end 
of all poetry. Lord Byron's 'Cors air.' Love 
and poets: Mrs. and Shelley; Miss Staf- 
ford and Crebillon. Rogers's dinners and Lady 
Holland. Elegant orientalisms. Poetical os- 
cillation. Rogers's sensitiveness. His faults 
compared to spots in the sun. His epigrammatic 
talent . , 251-258 

Parson N*ttj the would-be Bishop. Warburton's 
^ Legation of Moses ' no authority. Poets and 
penknives. Lord Byron's return from Greece 
in 1812; attachment to the Morea: Second 
Canto of ^ Childe Harold.' Lady Jersey. 
Brummell. A hot-pressed darling. ' The Cor- 
sair.' Polidori. The four trials 258-262 

Imputed ingratitude towards a certain personage ; 
defence. The Irish Avatara. Lord Edward 
Fitzgerald ; his adventures ; Ca ira. The 
O'Connors. Fate of Lord Edward Fitzgerald . 262-272 

Query on a line in ' Beppo :' answer. Remarks 
on a certain novel. ' The Giaour' and the 
gage reviewer. Shelley and the Booksel- 
ler. Sotheby, Edgeworth^, Galignani^ and 
Moore. Intended mystification. Baron Lutze- 
rode ; his heroic action. Lord Byron's distaste 
for princes and their satellites. De la Martine's 



XX CONTENTS. 

comparison ; his ' Meditations Poetiques.' Har- 
row a nursery for politicians. Lord Byron's 
indiiference to politics ; his detestation of Cas- 
tlereagh. Lord Byron's two speeches in the 
House ; universality of his views. Portugal 
and Spain. Greece. The Austrians in Venice. 
Ireland. Lord Cochrane and Mavrocordatos. Re- 
marks on Lambrino's ode. Lord Byron's opinion 
of affairs in the jMorea. The Turks ; their mode 
of warfare. Prophetic age of Voltaire, Alfieri, 
and Goldsmith. Shelley's observation on poets. 
Lord Byron's prospective plans. Greece. The 
Guiccioli. Lock of Napoleon's hair. Lord 
Carlisle's poem to Lady Holland respecting the 
snuff-box: Lord Byron's parody on it. Epigram 
on Lord Carlisle. Shelley's talent for poetry; 
comparison between his works and Chatterton's. 

Remarks on metres 272-292 

The Reviews. Shelley and Keats. Milman's 
' Fazio.' ' The Quarterly' and Shelley ; Lord 
Byron's eulogium on the latter. IVIilman's 
' Siege of Jerusalem/ and his obligations to 
INIilton. The Quarterly Reviewers. Dryden's 
cutting couplet. Keats and the Cockneys. 
Keats's sentimentalism. ' Hyperion.' Lord 
Thurlow. ' Lalla Rookh.' IMoore and Captain 
Ellis ; instance of an Irishism in the forir.er. - 
' The Lusiad' and Lord Strangford. The Ber- 
muda affair ; iVIoore's independence. ' The 
Fudge Family;' Letter to Big Ben. IMoore's 
immortality : the Irish ^Melodies 292-298 



CONTENTS. XXI 



The author takes leave of Lord Byron for some 
time. The affray at Pisa ; French account of 
it ; the depositions. Banishment of the Counts 
Gamba and Lord Byron*s servants from Pisa. 
His Lordship's departure. The Gambas ordered 
to quit the Tuscan States. The Lanfranchi 
palace. Arrival of Leigh Hunt and his family. 
Shelley's death ; Memoir of him (in a note) : 
burning of his body ; descriptive account of the 
scene. Lord Byron's remedy for a fever. His 
attachment to the Countess Guiccioli- His first 
introduction to Leigh Hunt^ and his sense of 
gratitude. Object of Hunt's journey. His 
Lordship's intended translation of Ariosto. Ad- 
vice of Moore. The new Periodical. Lord 
Byron's opinion of Hunt. The Blue-coat foun- 
dation. Punning book-titles 298-322 

Lord Byron's intention of a trip to America. Ci- 
vilities from the Americans ; different treatment 
by an English sloop of war. Lord Byron's naval 
ancestor. ' Werner.' Miss Lee's ' Canterbury 
Tales :' the German's Tale. ' Vathek.' The 
Cave of Eblis. ' Paul and Virginia.' ' The Man 
of Feeling :' La Roche. ^ Werner' written in 
twenty-eight days ; dedication of ^ Werner.' 
Lord Byron's curiosity respecting Goethe. 
' Faust :' Coleridge declines translating it . . 323-330 

Hobhouse ; commencement of his and Lord By- 
ron's friendship ; similarity of pursuits. Dedi- 
cation of ^ Childe Harold.' Lady Charlotte 
Harley, Lord Byron's lanthe. Hobhouse's dis- - 



XXll CONTENTS. 

gertation on Italian literature ; his antiquarian 
knowledge ; his sensibility- Lord Byron's time 
of and facility for writing ; his few corrections 
and surprising memory; his conversational ta- 
lent ; his unreserve and sincerity ; his impa- 
tience of prolixity and distaste for argument ; 
his tendency to extremes ; his inconsistency in 
pecuniary matters 331-335 

Lord Byron's attack of indolence ; his impaired 
digestion ; his indulgence in wine and Hol- 
lands. Alleged source of his inspiration : the 
true Hippocrene. The Author takes leave of 

' Lord Byron. Sketch of Lord Byron's charac- 
ter. Parallel between Altieri and Lord Byron. 
The latter's pride of ancestry, and independence 
of character ; his political sentiments : the Mi- 
chael Angelo of poetry. True poetical inspira- 
tion. The poetical merits of Lord Byron's 
works Lividious cognomen of the Satanic school 
of poetry. The real direction of his Lordship's 
satire ; his respect for moral liberty ; general 
tendency of his writings ; his defiance of party 
abuse. Applicability to Lord Byron of Raleigh's 
monumental inscription 335-343 

The high admiration of the Germans for Lord 
Byron: Goethe's tribute to his genius and 
memory 

Appendix. — Copia del Rapporto fatto a sua Ec- 
cellenza il Sig. Governatore di Pisa. Secondo 
Rapporto. Goethe's Beitnig zum Andenken 



343-351 



CONTENTS. XXm 

Page 
Lord Byron's. Letter from Lord Byron to 

Monsieur Beyle^, chiefly relative to Sir Walter 
Scott. Some account of Lord Byron's residence 
in Greece. His last moments. Greek Pro- 
clamation on the death of his Lordship. Fune- 
ral oration, from the Greek. Greek Ode to 
the Memory of Lord Byron, with Translation. 
Last Verses of Lord Byron . ...... i-ciii. 



CONVERSATIONS 



OF 



LORD BYRON 



I WENT to Italy late in the Autumn of 1821, 
for the benefit of my health. Lord Byron, ac- 
companied by Mr. Rogers as far as Florence, 
had passed on a few days before me, and was 
already at Pisa when I arrived. 

His travelling equipage was rather a singular 
one, and afforded a strange catalogue for the 
T>ogana : seven servants, five carriages, nine 
horses, a monkey, a bull-dog and a mastiff, two 
cats, three pea-fowls and some hens, (I do not 

B 



2 CONVERSATIONS OF 

know whether I have classed them in order of 
rank,) formed part of his Hve stock; and all 
his books, consisting of a very large library of 
modern works, (for he ])ought all the best that 
came out,) together with a vast quantity of 
furniture, might well be termed, with C^sar, 
" impediments." 

I had long formed a wish to see and 
be acquainted mth Lord Byron ; but his 
known refusal at that time to receive the 
visits of strangers, even of some who brought 
him letters of introduction from the most inti- 
mate friend he had, and a prejudice excited 
against his own countrymen by a late insult, 
would have deterred me from seeking an inter- 
view with him, had not the proposal come from 
himself, in consequence of his heaiing Shelley 
speak of me. 

20th November. — "This is the Lung' 
Arno. He has hired the Lanfranchi palace for 



LORD BYRON. d 

a year: — ^it is one of those marble piles that 
seem built for eternity, whilst the family whose 
name it bears no longer exists," said Shelley, as 
we entered a hall that seemed built for giants. 
" I remember the lines in the ' Inferno,' " said I : 
" a Lanfranchi was one of the persecutors of 
Ugolino." — ^" The same," answered Shelley ; 
'* you will see a picture of Ugolino and his sons 
in his room. Fletcher, his valet, is as super- 
stitious as his master, and says the house is 
haunted, so that he cannot sleep for rumbling 
noises overhead, which he compares to the 
rolling of bowls. No wonder ; old Lanfranchi's 
ghost is unquiet, and walks at night." 

The palace was of such size, that Lord Byron 
only occupied the first floor ; and at the top of 
the staircase leading to it was the English bull- 
dog, whose chain was long enough to guard the 
door, and prevent the entrance of strangers ; 
he, however, knew Shelley, growled, and let us 
pass. In the anti-room we found several ser- 
b2 



4 CONVEKSATIONS Ol' 

vants in livery, and Fletcher, (whom Shelley 
mentioned, and of wliom I shall have occasion 
to speak,) who had been in his service from the 
time he left HaiTow. "Like many old ser- 
vants, he is a privileged person," whispered 
Shelley. " Don Juan had not a better Lepo- 
rello, for imitating his master. He says that 
he is a Laurel struck by a Metre, and when in 
Greece remarked upon one of the bas-reliefs of 
the Parthenon, * La ! what mantel-pieces these 
would make, my Lord !' " When we were 
announced, we found his Lordship writing. 
His reception was frank and kind ; he took me 
cordially by the hand, and said : 

" You are a relation and schoolfellow of 
'* Shelley's — A\'e do not meet as strangers — you 
" must allow me to continue my letter on ac- 
" count of the post. Here 's something for 
" you to read, Shelley, (giving him part of his 
" MS. of * Heaven and Earth ;') tell me what 
" you think of it." 



LORD BYRON. 5 

During the few minutes that Lord Byron 
was finishing his letter, I took an oppor- 
tunity of narrowly observing him, and drawing 
his portrait in my mind.* Thorwaldsen's bust 
is too thin-necked and young for Lord Byron. 
None of the engravings gave me the least idea 
of him. I saw a man about five feet seven or 
eight, apparently forty years of age : as was 



* Being with him, day after day, some time afterwards, 
whilst he was sitting to Bertolini, the Florentine sculptor, 
for his bust, I had an opportunity of analyzing his features 
more critically, but found nothing to alter in my portrait. 
Bertolini's is an admirable likeness, at least was so in the 
clay model. I have not seen it since it was copied in mar- 
ble, nor have I got a cast ; he promised Bertolini should send 
me one. Lord Byron prided himself on his neck; and 
it must be confessed that his head was worthy of being 
placed on it. Bertolini destroyed his ehauches more than 
once before he could please himself. When he had finished. 
Lord Byron said, 

'' It is the last time I sit to sculptor or painter." 
This was on the 4th of January, 1822. 



6 CONVERSATIONS OF 

said of Milton, he barely escaped being short 
and thick. His face was fine, and the lower 
part symmetrically moulded ; foi- the lips and 
chin had that curved and definite outline which 
distinguishes Grecian beauty. His forehead 
was high, and his temples broad ; and he had 
a paleness in his complexion, almost to wan- 
ness. His hair thin and fine, had almost be- 
come grey, and waved in natural and graceful 
curls over his head, that was assimilating itself 
fast to the " bald first Caesar's." He allowed it 
to grow longer behind than it is accustomed to 
be worn, and at that time had mustachios, which 
were not sufficiently dark to be becoming. In 
criticising his features it might, perhaps, be said 
that his eyes were placed too near his nose, and 
that one was rather smaller than the other ; 
they were of a greyish brown, but of a pecidiar 
clearness, and when animated possessed a fire 
which seemed to look through and penetrate 
the thoughts of others, while they marked the 
inspiiations of his own. His teeth were small. 



LORD BYRON. 7 

regular, and white ; these, I afterwards found, 
he took great pains to preserve.* 

I expected to discover that he had a club, 
perhaps a cloven foot ; but it would have been 
difficult to distinguish one from the other, either 
in size or in form. 

On the whole his figure was manly, and his 
countenance handsome and prepossessing, and 
very expressive ; and the familiar ease of his 
conversation soon made me perfectly at home in 
his society. Our first interview was marked 
with a cordiality and confidence that flattered 
while it dehghted me; and I felt anxious for 
the next day, in order that I might repeat my 
visit. 



* For this purpose he used tobacco when he first went 
into the open air ; and he told me he was in the habit of 
grinding his teeth in his sleep, to prevent which he was 
forced to put a napkin between them. 



8 CONVERSATIONS OF 

When I called on his Lordship at two o'clock, 
he had just left his bed-room, and was at break- 
fast, if it could be called one. It consisted of a 
cup of strong green tea, without milk or sugar, 
and an egg, of which he ate the yolk raw. I 
observed the abstemiousness of his meal. 

" My digestion is weak ; I am too bilious," 
said he, " to eat more than once a-day, and 
" generally live on vegetables. To be sure I 
" drink two bottles of wine at dinner, but they 
" form only a vegetable diet. Just now I live 
*' on claret and soda-water. You are just come 
" from Geneva, Shelley tells me. I passed the 
" best part of the summer of 1816 at the Cam- 
" pagna Diodati, and was very nearly passing 
" this last there. I went so far as to write to 
•^ Hentsh the banker ; but Shelley, when he 
" came to visit me at Ravenna, gave me such a 
" flattering account of Pisa that I changed my 
" mind. Then it is troublesome to travel so 
" far with so much live and dead stock as I do ; 



LORD BYRON. 9 

" and I don't like to leave behind me any of 
" my pets that have been accumulating since I 
" came on the Continent.* One cannot trust 
** to strangers to take care of them. You will 
" see at the farmer's some of my pea-fowls en 
^'pension, Fletcher tells me that they are 
*^ almost as bad fellow-travellers as the mon- 
" keyf, which I will shew you." 

Here he led the way to a room, where, after 
playing with and caressing the creature for some 
time, he proposed a game of billiards. 

I brought the conversation back on Switzer- 
land and his travels, and asked him if he had 
been in Germany ? 

* He says afterwards in " Don Juan/' Canto X, St. L. ; 

" He had a kind of inclination^ or 

Weakness, for what most people deem mere vermin. 
Live animals." 

t He afterwards bought another monkey in Pisa, in the 
street; because he saw it ill-used. 



rO CONVEKSATIONS OF 

" No,'' said he, " not even at Trieste. I 
" hate despotism and the Goths too much. I 
" have travelled httle on the Continent, at least 
" never gone out of my way. This is partly 
" owing to the indolence of my disposition, 
*' partly owing to iny incumbrances. I had 
" some idea, when at Rome, of visiting Naples, 
" but was at that time anxious to get back to 
" Venice. But Paestum cannot surpass the 
" ruins of Agrigentum, which I saw by moon- 
" light ; nor Naples, Constantinople. You 
" have no conception of the beauty of the 
" twelve islands where the Turks have their 
'^ country-houses, or of the blue Symplegades 
" against which the Bosphorus beats with such 
" restless violence. 

" Switzerland is a country I have been satis- 
" fied with seeing once ; Turkey I could live in 
" for ever. I never forget my predilections. I 
" was in a wretched state of health, and worse 
" spirits when I was at Geneva ; but quiet and 



LORD BYKON. 11 

'' the lake, physicians better than Polidori, soon 
" set me up. 1 never led so moral a Hfe as 
" dming my residence in that country ; but I 
" gained no credit by it. Where there is a mor- 
" tification, there ought to be reward. On the 
" contrary, there is no story so absurd that they 
" did not invent at my cost. I was watched by 
" glasses on the opposite side of the Lake, and 
"by glasses too that must have had very dis- 
" torted optics. I was waylaid in my evening 
" drives — I was accused of corrupting aU the 
'' grisettes in the Rue Basse. I believe that 
" they looked upon me as a man-monster, worse 
" than the piqueur, 

" Somebody possessed Madame de Stael with 
" an opinion of my immorality. I used occa- 
" sionally to visit her at Coppet ; and once she 
" invited me to a family-dinner, and I found the 
"room full of strangers, who had come to stare 
" at me as at some outlandish beast in a raree- 
" show. One of the ladies fainted, and the rest 



12 CONVERSATIONS OF 

** looked as if his Satanic Majesty had been 
" among them. Madame de Stael took the 
" liberty to read me a lectm-e before this crowd ; 
" to which I only made her a low bow. 

" I knew very few of the Genevese. Hentsh 
" was very civil to me ; and I have a great re- 
" spect for Sismondi. I was forced to retmn the 
" civilities of one of their Professors by asking 
" him, and an old gentleman, a friend of Gray's, 
" to dine with me. I had gone out to sail 
" early in the morning, and the wind pre- 
" vented me from returning in time for dinner. 
" I understand that I offended them mortally. 
" Polidori did the honours. Among ovu* coun- 
" trymen I made no new acquaintances ; Shel- 
" ley. Monk Lewis, and Hobhouse were almost 
" the only English people I saw. No wonder 
" I shewed a distaste for society at that time, 
" and went little among the Genevese ; be- 
" sides, I could not si)eak French. AVliat is 
" become of my boatman and boat ? I suppose 



LORD BYUON. 13 

" shp is rotten ; she was never worth much. 
" When I went the tour of the Lake in her 
" with Shelley and Hobhouse, she was nearly 
" wrecked near the very spot where St. Preux 
" and Julia were in danger of being drowned. 
** It would have been classical to have been lost 
^' there, but not so agreeable. Shelley was on 
" the Lake much oftener than I, at all hours 
" of the night and day : he almost lived on it ; 
" his great rage is a boat. We are both build- 
" ing now at Genoa, I a yacht, and he an 
" open boat." 

We played at billiards till the carriage was 
announced, and I accompanied him in his 
drive. Soon after we got off the stones, we 
mounted our horses, which were waiting for 
us. Lord Byron is an admirable horseman, 
combining grace with the security of his seat. 
He prides himself much on this exercise. He 
conducted us for some miles till we came to a 
farm-house, were he practises pistol-firing every 



14 CONVERSATIONS OF 

evening. This is his favourite amusement, and 
may indeed be called almost a pursuit. He al- 
ways has pistols in his holster, and eight or Urn 
pair by the first makers in London earned by 
his courier. We had eacli twelve rounds of 
ammunition, and in a diameter of four inches 
he put eleven out of twelve shots. I observed 
his hand shook exceedingly. He said that 
when he first l^egan at Manton's he was 
the worst shot in the world, and Man ton was 
perhaps the best. The subject turned upon 
duelling, and he contended for its necessity, and 
quoted some strong arguments in favour of it. 

** I have been concerned," said he, " in many 
*' duels as second, but only in two as principal ; 
" one was with Hobhouse before I became in- 
" timate with him. The best marksmen at a 
" target are not the surest in the field. Cecil's 
" and Stackpoole's affair proved this. They 
" fought after a quaiTel of three years, during 
'* which they were practising daily. Stack- 



LORD BYRON. 15 

" poole was so good a shot that he used to cut 
" off the heads of the fowls for dinner as they 
" drank out of the coops about. He had every 
" wish to kill his antagonist, but he received 
" his death-blow from Cecil, who fired rather 
" first, or rather was the quickest shot of the 

" two. All he said when falling was, ' D n 

" it, have I missed him ?' Shelley is a much 
" better shot than I am, but he is thinking of 
" metaphysics rather than of firing." 



I understand that Lord Byron is always in 
better spirits after having culped (as he calls it) 
the targe often, or hit a five-paul piece, the 
counterpart of which is always given to the 
farmer, who is making a Httle fortune. All the 
pieces struck, Lord Byron keeps to put, as he 
says, in his museum. 

We now continued our ride, and returned to 
Pisa by the Lucca gate. 



16 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Pisa with its hanging tower and Sophia- 
"Hke dome reminds me," said Lord Byron, 
" of an eastern place." 

He then remarked the heavy smoke that 
rolled away from the city, spreading in the 
distance a vale of mist, through which the 
golden clouds of evening appeared. 

" It is fine," said Lord Byron, " but no sun- 
" sets are to be compared with those of Venice. 
" They are too gorgeous for any painter, and 
" defy any poet. My rides, indeed, would 
" have been nothing without the Venetian sun- 
" sets. Ask SheUey." 

" Stand on the marble bridge," said Shelley, 
" cast your eye, if you are not dazzled, on its 
river glowing as with fire, then follow the 
graceful curve of the palaces on the Lung' 
Amo till the arch is naved by the massy 
dungeon-tower (erroneously called l^golino's), 



LORD BYRON, 17 

frowning in dark relief, and tell me if any thing 
can surpass a sunset at Pisa." 



The history of one, is that of almost every 
day. It is impossible to conceive a more un- 
varied life than Lord Byron led at this period, 
I continued to visit him at the same hour daily. 
Billiards, conversation, or reading, filled up the 
intervals till it was time to take our evening 
drive, ride, and pistol-practice. On our re- 
turn, which was always in the same direc- 
tion, we frequently met the Countess Guic- 
cioli, with whom he stopped to converse a few 
minutes. 

He dined at half an hour after sunset, (at 
twenty-four o'clock;) then drove ..to Count 
Gamba's, the Countess Guiccioli's father, passed 
several hours in her society, returned to his 
palace, and either read or wrote till two or 
three in the morning ; occasionally drinking 



18 CONVERSATIONS OF 

spirits diluted with water as a medicine, from a 
dread of a nephritic complaint, to which he 
was, or fancied himself, subject. Such was his 
life at Pisa. 

The Countess Guiccioli is twenty-three years 
of age, though she appears no more than 
seventeen or eighteen. Unlike most of the 
Itahan women, her complexion is delicately 
fair. Her eyes, large, dark, and languishing, 
are shaded by the longest eye-lashes in the 
world ; and her hair, which is ungathered on 
her head, plays over her falling shoulders in a 
profusion of natural ringlets of the darkest 
auburn. Her figure is, perhaps, too much 
embonpoint for her height, but her bust is per- 
fect ; her features want little of possessing a 
Grecian regulaiity of outline ; and she has the 
most beautiful mouth and teeth imaginable. 
It is impossible to see without admiring — to 
hear the Guiccioli speak without being fasci- 



LORD BYRON. 19 

iiated. Her amiability and gentleness shew 
themselves in every intonation of her voice, 
which, and the music of her perfect Italian, 
give a peculiar charm to every thing she utters. 
Grace and elegance seem component parts of 
her nature. Notwithstanding that she adores 
Lord Byron, it is evident that the exile and 
poverty of her aged father sometimes affect her 
spirits, and throw a shade of melancholy on 
her countenance, which adds to the deep in- 
terest this lovely girl creates. 

" Extraordinary pains," said Lord Byron 
one day, " were taken with the education of 
" Teresa. Her conversation is lively, with- 
" out being frivolous ; without being learned, 
" she has read all the best authors of her own 
" and the French language. She often con- 
*' ceals what she knows, from the fear of being 
" thought to know too much ; possibly because 
'* she knows I am not fond of blues. To use 
c 2 



20 CONVKUSATIONS OF 

" an ex})i'ession of Jeffrey's, ' If she has blue 
*' stockings, she contrives that her petticoat 
" shaU hide them.' " 



Lord Byron is certainly very much attached 
to her, without being actually in love. His 
description of the Giorgione in the Manfnni 
palace at Venice is meant for the Countess. 
The beautiful sonnet prefixed to the ' Prophecy 
of Dante' was addressed to her ; and I cannot 
resist copying some stanzas written when he was 
about to quit Venice to join her at Ravenna, 
which will describe the state of his feelings at 
that time. 

River* that roUcst by the ancient walls 

Where dwells the lady of my love, when she 

Walks by the brink, and there perchance recalls 
A faint and fleeting memory of me : 

* The Po. 



LOUD BYRON. 21 

What if thy deep and ample stream should be 
A mirror of my heart, where she may read 

The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee, 
Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed ? 

What do I say— a mirror of my heart ? 

Are not thy waters sweeping, dark and strong ? 
Such as my feelings were and are, thou art ; 

And such as thou art, were my passions long. 

Time may have somewhat tamed them, not for ever ; 

Thou overflow'st thy banks, and not for aye ; 
Thy bosom overboils, congenial river ! 

Thy floods subside ; and mine have sunk away — 

But left long wrecks behind them, and again 
Borne on our old unchanged career, we move ; 

Thou tendest wildly onward to the main. 
And I to loving one I should not love. 

The current I behold will sweep beneath 
Her native walls, and murmur at her feet ; 

Her eyes will look on thee, when she shall breatlie 
The twilight air, unharmM by summer's heat. 



22 CONVERSATIONS OF 

Slic will look on thee ; I have look'd on thee, 

Full of that thought, and from that moment ne'er 

Thy waters could I dream of, name or see, 
Without the inseparable sigh for her. 

Her bright eyes will be imaged in thy stream ; 

Yes, they will meet the wave I gaze on now : 
Mine cannot witness, even in a dream. 

That happy wave repass me in its flow. 

The wave that bears my tears returns no more : 
Will she return by whom that wave shall sweep ? 

Both tread thy banks, both wander on thy shore ; 
I near thy source, she by the dark-blue deep. 

But that which keepeth us apart is not 

Distance, nor depth of wave, nor space of earth. 

But the distraction of a various lot, 
As various as the climates of our birth. 

A stranger loves a lady of the land. 

Born far beyond the mountains, but his blood 

Is all meridian, as if never fann'd 

By the bleak wind that chills the polar flood. 



LOUD BYllON. 23 

My blood is all meridian ; were it not, 
I had not left my clime ; — I shall not be, 

In spite of tortures ne'er to be forgot, 
A slave again of love, at least of thee. 

'Tis vain to struggle — let me perish young — 
Live as I lived, and love as I have loved : 

To dust if I return, from dust I sprung. 

And then at least my heart can ne^er be moved. 



Calling on Lord Byron one evening after the 
opera, we happened to talk of Cavalieri Serventi, 
and Italian women ; and he contended that 
much was to be said in excuse for them, and in 
defence of the system. 

" We will put out of the question," said he, 
" a Cavalier Servefitecism ; that is only another 
" term for prostitution, where the women get 
" all the money they can, and have (as is the 
" case in all such contracts) no love to give in 
" exchange. — I speak of another, and of a dif- 
*' ferent service." 



24 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Do you know liow a girl is jjroiight up 
" here ? " continued he. " Almost from infancy 
" she is deprived of the endearments of home, 
" and shut up in a convent till she has attained 
** a marriageable or marketable age. The father 
*' now looks out for a suitable son-in-law. As 
'* a certain portion of his fortune is fixed by law 
" for the dower of his children, his object is to 
" find some needy man of equal rank, or a very 
" rich one, the older the better, who will consent 
" to take his daughter off his hands, under the 
" market price. This, if she happen to ])e hand- 
" some, is not difficult of accomi)lishment. OI>- 
" jections are seldom made on the part of the 
young lady to the age, and personal or other 
defects of the intended, who perhaps visits her 
once in the parlour as a matter of form or 
curiosity. She is too hap]>y to get her liberty 
on any terms, and he her money or her person. 
" There is no love on eitlier side. What happi- 
•' ness is to be expected, or constancy, from such 
" a liaison ? Is it not natural, that in her inter- 
" course with a world, of which she knows and 



a 



i( 



C( 



LORD BYRON. 25 

" has seen nothing, and unrestrained mistress 
" of her own time and actions, she should find 
" somebody to like better, and who likes her 
'* better, than her husband^ The Count Guic- 
" cioli, for instance, who is the richest man in 
" Romagna, was sixty when he married Teresa ; 
" she sixteen. From the first they had separate 
" apartments, and she always used to call him 
" Sir. What could be expected from such a 
" preposterous connexion ? For some time she 
" was an Angiolina, and he a Marino Faliero, a 
" good old man ; but young women, and your 
'* Italian ones too, are not satisfied with your 
" good old men. Love is not the same dull, 
" cold, calculating feeling here as in the North. 
" It is the business, the serious occupation of 
*' their lives ; it is a want, a necessity. Some- 
" body properly defines a woman, ' a creature 
'' that loves.' They die of love ; particularly 
*' the Romans : they begin to love earlier, and 
** feel the passion later than the Northern people. 
"When I was at Venice, two dowagers of sixty 
"made love to me. — But to return to the 



26 CON^^ERSATIONS OF 

" Guiccioli. The old Count did not object to 
" her availing herself of the privileges of her 
" country ; an Italian would have reconciled 
*' hini to the thing : indeed for some time he 
" winked at our intimacy, but at length made 
*' an exception against me, as a foreigner, a he- 
" retic, an Englishman, and, what was worse 
" than all, a liberal. 

" He insisted — the GuiccioU was as obstinate ; 
" her family took her part. Catholics cannot get 
" divorces. But, to the scandal of all Romagna, 
" the matter was at length referred to the Pope, 
" who ordered her a separate maintenance, on 
" condition that she should reside under her 
" father's roof All this was not agi-eeable, and 
" at length I was forced to smuggle her out of 
" Ravenna, having disclosed a plot laid with the 
" sanction of the Legate for shutting her up in 
" a convent for life, which she naiTOwly escaped. 
'' — Except Greece, I was never so attached to 
" any place in my life as to Ravenna, and but 
" for the failure of the Constitutionalists and 



LOED BYUON. 27 

" this fracas, should probably never have left it. 
" The peasantry are the best people in the world, 
" and the beauty of their women is extraordi- 
" nary. Those at Tivoli and Frescati, who are 
" so much vaunted, are mere Sabines, coarse 
" creatures, compared to the Romagnese. You 
" may talk of your English women, and it is 
"true that out of one hundred Italians and 
*' English you will find thirty of the latter hand- 
«' some ; but then there will be one Italian on 
'* the other side of the scale, who will more 
'* than balance the deficit in numbers — one 
'* who, like the Florence Venus, has no rival, and 
** can have none in the North. I have learnt 
'* more from the peasantry of the countries I 
" have travelled in than from any other source, 
" especially from the women*: they are more 

* .^<^ Female hearts are such a genial soil 



For kinder feeling, whatsoe'er their nation. 
They generally pour the wine and oil, 
Samaritans in every situation." 

Don Juan, Canto V. Stanza 122. 



28 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*' intelligent, as well as communicative, than the 
" men. I found also at Ravenna much educa- 
" tion and liberality of thinking among the 
** higher classes. The climate is delightful. I 
** was unbroken in upon by society. Ra- 
*' venna lies out of the way of travellei-s. I 
" was never tired of my rides in the pine-fo- 
" rest : it breathes of the Decameron ; it is 
*' poetical ground. Francesca lived, and Dante 
'* was exiled and died at Ravenna. There is 
** something inspiring in such an air.* 



* The following lines will shew the attachment Lord 
Byron had to the tranquil life he led at Ravenna : 

" Sweet hour of twilight, in the solitude 
Of the pine-forest and the silent shore 
Which bounds Ravenna's immemorial wood, 

Rooted where once the Adrian wave flow'd o'er 
To w.here the last Cajsarean fortress stood. 

Evergreen forest ! which Boccaccio's lore 
And Dryden's lay made haunted ground to me. 
How have I loved the twilight hour and thee ! 

The 



LORD BYRON. 29 

" The people liked me, as much as they 
" hated the Government. It is not a little to 
" say, I was popular with all the leaders of the 
" Constitutional party. They knew that I 
** came from a land of liberty, and wished well 
" to their cause. I would have espoused it too, 
'• and assisted them to shake off their fetters. 
" They knew my character, for I had been liv- 
" ing two years at Venice, where many of the 
" Ravennese have houses. I did not, however, 
'* take part in their intrigues, nor join in their 
" political coteries ; but I had a magazine of 
" ^ne hundred stand of arms in the house, 
" when every thing was ripe for revolt. A 
" €urse on Carignan's imbecility ! I could have 
" pardoned him that too, if he had not mi- 
«' peached his partisans. The proscription was 

The shrill cicalas, people of the pine. 

Making their summer lives one ceaseless song, 

Were the sole echoes save my steed's and mine. 
And vesper bell's that rose the boughs among." 

Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 105. 



30 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" immense in Romagna, and embraced many of 
" the first nobles ; almost all my friends, among 
*' the rest the Grambas, who took no part in 
" the affair, were included in it. They were 
" exiled, and their possessions confiscated. 
" They knew that tliis must eventually drive 
" me out of the countiy. I did not follow 
" them immediately ; I was not to be bullied. 
" I had myself fallen under the eye of the 
" Government. If they could have got suf- 
" ficient proof, they would have an'ested me : 
" but no one betrayed me ; indeed there was 
'* nothing to betray. I had received a very 
" high degree, without passing through the 
" intermediate ranks. In that corner you see 
" papers of one of their societies. Shortly after 
" the plot was discovered, I received several 
" anonymous letters, advising mc to discon- 
** tinue my forest rides ; but I entertained no 
" apprehensions of treachery, and was more 
" on horseback than ever. I never stir out 
" without being well armed, and sleep with 



LORD BYRON. 31 

" pistols. They knew that I never missed my 
*' aim ; perhaps this saved me. An event 
" occurred at this time at Ravenna' that made 
" a deep impression on me : I alluded to it 
" in ' Don Juan.' The military Commandant of 
" the place, who, though suspected of being se- 
'' cretly a Carbonaro, was too powerful a man 
'* to be arrested, was assassinated opposite to 
" my palace ; a spot perhaps selected by choice 
" for the commission of the crime. The mea- 
" sures which were adopted to screen the mur- 
" derer prove the assassination to have taken 
" place by order of the police. I had my foot 
" in the stirrup at my usual hour of exercise, 
" when my horse started at the report of a 
" gun. On looking up I perceived a man 
" throw down a carbine and run away at full 
" speed, and another stretched upon the pave- 
" ment, a few yards from me. On hastening 
" towards him, I found that it was the un- 
" happy Commandant. A crowd was soon 
" collected, but no one ventured to offer the 



32 CONVKU^SATIONS OF 

*' least assistance. I soon directed my servant 
" to lift up the bleeding body and carry it into 
" my palace ; but it was represented to me that 
" by so doing I should confirm the suspicion 
" of being of his party, and incm' the displea- 
*' sure of the Government. However, it was 
" no time to calculate between humanity and 
" danger. I assisted in bearing him into the 
*• house, and putting him on a bed. He was 
" already dead from several wounds ; he ap- 
" peared to have breathed his last without 
" a struggle. I never saw a countenance so 
" calm. His adjutant followed the corpse 
" into the house. I remember his lamentation 
" over him : — * Povero diavolo ! non aveva fatto 
" male, anche ad un cane.' ' 



** I am sorry," said he, " not to have a copy 
" of my Memoirs to shew you ; I gave them to 
" Moore, or rather to Moore's little boy, at Ve- 
" nice. I remember saying, ' Here are 2000/. 
** for you, my young friend.' I made one re- 



« 



LORD BYRON. 33 

servation in the gift, — ^that they were not 
to be published till after my death. 



" I have not the least objection to their 
*' being circulated ; in fact they have been 
** read by some of mine, and several of Moore's 
** friends and acquaintances ; among others, 
^* they were lent to Lady Burghersh. On 
" returning the MS. her Ladyship told Moore 
" that she had transcribed the whole work. 
^' This was un peu fort, and he suggested the 
" propriety of her destroying the copy. She 
" did so, by putting it into the fire in his pre- 
" sence. Ever since this happened, Douglas 
" Kinnaird has been recommending me to 
" resume possession of the MS., thinking to 
" frighten me by saying that a spurious or 
*' a real copy, surreptitiously obtained, may go 
" forth to the world. I am quite indifferent 
'' about the world knowing all that they con- 
" tain. There are very few licentious adven- 
" tures of my own, or scandalous anecdotes 



34 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" that will affect others, in the book. It is 
** taken up from my earliest recollections, al- 
" most from childhood, — very incoherent, writ- 
" ten in a very loose and familiar style. The 
** second part will prove a good lesson to young 
" men ; for it treats of the iiTCgular life I led 
" at one period, and the fatal consequences of 
" dissipation. There are few parts that may 
" not, and none that will not, be read by 



Another time he said : 

" A very ftdl account of my marriage and 
" separation is contained in my Memoirs. After 
** they were completed, I wrote to Lady Byi'on, 
" proposing to send them for her inspection, in 
" order that any mistatements or inacciu'acy (if 
" any such existed, which I was not aware of,) 
" might be pointed out and corrected. In her 
" answer she declined the offer, without assign - 
" ing any reason ; but desiring, if not on her 
" account, for the sake of her daughter, that 



LORD BYRON. 35 

^' they might never appear, and finishing with 
" a threat. My reply was the severest thing I 
" ever wrote, and contained two quotations, 
" one fi'om Shakspeare, and another from 
" Dante.* I told her that she knew all I had 
*' written was incontrovertible truth, and that 
'^ she did not wish to sanction the truth. I 
'^ ended by saying, that she might depend on 
" their being published. It was not till after 
" this correspondence that I made Moore the 
" depositary of the MS. 

" The first time of my seeing Miss Milbanke 

" was at Lady — • — 's. It was a fatal 

" day ; and I remember that in going upstairs 
" I stumbled, and remarked to Moore, who 
" accompanied me, that it was a bad omen. I 
" ought to have taken the warning. On enterr 
" ing the room I observed a young lady, more 

* I could not retain them. 
D 2 



36 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" simply dressed than the rest of the assembly, 
" sitting alone upon a sofa. I took her for a 
** humble companion, and asked if I was right 
" in my conjecture ? * She is a great heiress,' 
**' said he in a whisper that became lower as he 
" proceeded ; ' you had better marry her, and 
*' repair the old place, Newstead.' 

" There was something piquant, and what we 
" term pretty, in Miss Milbanke. Her features 
" were small and feminine, though not regular. 
" She had the fairest skin imaginable. Her 
" figure was perfect for her height, and there 
" was a simplicity, a retired modesty about her, 
" which was very characteristic, and formed a 
" happy contrast to the cold artificial formahty, 
" and studied stiffness, which is called fashion. 
*^ She interested me exceedingly. It is un- 
" necessary to detail the progress of our ac- 
" quaintance. I became daily more attached to 
" her, and it ended in my making her a pro- 
" posal that was rejected. Her refusal was 



LOUD BYRON. ^ 37 

** couched in terms that could not offend me. 
'^ I was besides persuaded that, in declining my 
" offer, she was governed by the influence of 
" her mother ; and was the more confirmed in 
" this opinion by her reviving our correspond- 
" ence herself twelve months after. The tenor 
" of her letter was, that although she could not 
" love me, she desired my friendship. Friend- 
" ship is a dangerous word for young ladies ; it 
" is Love full-fledged, and waiting for a fine 
*^ day to fly, 

" It had been predicted by Mrs. Williams, 
" that twenty-seven was to be a dangerous age 
" for me. The fortune-telling witch was right; 
*' it was destined to prove so. I shall never 
" forget the 2d of January ! Lady Byron 
" (Byrn, he pronounced it) was the only uncon- 
" cerned person present ; Lady Noel, her mo- 
" ther, cried ; I trembled like a leaf, made the 
" wrong responses, and after the ceremony called 
" her Miss Milbanke. 



38 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" There is a singular history attached to the 
" ring. The very day the match was concluded, 
" a ring of my mother's, that had been lost, was 
" dug up by the gardener at Newstead. I 
" thought it was sent on purpose for the wed- 
" ding ; but my mother's marriage had not been 
** a fortunate one, and this ring was doomed to 
" be the seal of an unhappier union stiU * 

" After the ordeal was over, we set off for a 
" country-seat of Sir Ralph's ; and I was sur- 
" prised at the arrangements for the journey, 
" and somewhat out of humour to find a lady's- 
" maid stuck between me and my bride. It 
" was rather too early to assume the husband ; 
" so I was forced to submit, but it was not with 
" a very good grace. Put yourself in a similar 
" situation, and tell me if I had not some rea- 

* " Save the rins;, 



Which, being the damned'st part of matrimony — " 
Do7i Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 70- 



LORD BYRON. 39 

" son to be in the sulks. I have been accused 
" of saying, on getting into the carriage, that I 
" had married Lady Byron out of spite, and be- 
" cause she had refused me twice. Though I 
** was for a moment vexed at her prudery, or 
" whatever you may choose to call it, if I had 
" made so uncavaHer, not to say brutal a speech, 
" I am convinced Lady Byron would instantly 
" have left the carriage to me and the maid (I 
" mean the lady's). She had spirit enough to 
" have done so, and would properly have re- 
" sented the affront. 

" Our honeymoon was not all sunshine ; it 
" had its clouds : and Hobhouse has some letters 
" which would serve to explain the rise and fall 
** in the barometer,— but it was never down at 



" You tell me the world says I married Miss 
" Milbanke for her fortune, because she was a 
" great heiress. All I have ever received, or 



40 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" am likely to receive, (and that has been twice 
** paid back too,) was 1 0,000/. My own income 
" at this period was small, and somewhat be- 
" spoke. Newstead was a very unprofitable 
" estate, and brought me in a bare 1500/. 
" a-year; the Lancashire property was ham- 
" pered with a law-suit, which has cost me 
" 14,000/., and is not yet finished. 

" We had a house in town, gave dinner- 
" parties, had separate carriages, and launched 
" into every sort of extravagance. This could 
" not last long. My wife's 10,000/. soon melted 
** away. I was beset by duns, and at length 
" an execution was levied, and the bailiffs put 
" in possession of the very beds we had to sleep 
" on. This was no very agreeable state of 
" affairs, no very pleasant scene for Lady Byron 
" to witness ; and it was agreed she should pay 
** her father a visit till the storm had blown 
" over, and some aiTangements had been made 
" with my creditors. You may suppose on 



LOUD BYRON. 41 

" what terms we parted, from the style of a 
" letter she wrote me on the road : you will 
" think it began ridiculously enough, — ' Dear 
«Duck!'* 

" Imagine my astonishment to receive, imme- 
" diately on her arrival in London, a few lines 
" from her father, of a very dry and unafFection- 
" ate nature, beginning ' Sir,' and ending with 
" saying that his daughter should never see me 
" again. 

" In my reply I disclaimed his authority, as 
" a parent, over my wife, and told him I was 
" convinced the sentiments expressed were his, 
** not hers. Another post, however, brought 
" me a confirmation (under her own hand and 
" seal) of her father's sentence. I afterwards 



* Shelley, who knew this story, used to say these two 
Words would look odd in an Italian translation — Anitra 
carissima. 



42 CONVERSATIONS 01< 

" learnt from Fletcher's (my valet's) wife, who 
" was at that time femme-de-chamhre to Lady 
" Byron, that after her definite resolution was 
" taken, and the fatal letter consigned to the 
" post-office, she sent to withdraw it, and was 
" in hysterics of joy that it was not too late. It 
" seems, however, that they did not last long, 
" or that she was afterwards over-persuaded to 
" forward it. There can be no doubt that the 
" influence of her enemies prevailed over her 
" affection for me. You ask me if no cause 
" was assigned for this sudden resolution ? — if 
" I formed no conjecture about the cause ? I 
" will tell you. 

" I have prejudices about women ; I do not 
" like to see them eat. Rousseau makes Julie 
" un peu gourmande ; but that is not at all ac- 
*•' cording to my taste. I do not like to be in- 
" terrupted when I am writing. Lady Byron 
" did not attend to these whims of mine. The 



LORD BYRON. 43 

*' only harsh thing I ever remember saying to 
" her v/as one evening shortly before our part- 
" ing. I was standing before the fire, rumina- 
" ting upon the embarrassment of my afFairSj 
" and other annoyances, when Lady Byron 
'' came up to me and said, * Byron, am I in 
" your way ?' — to which I replied, * Damnably !* 
" I was afterwards sorry, and reproached myself 
" for the expression : but it escaped me uncon- 
" sciously — involuntarily ; I hardly knew what 
'' I said. 

•' I heard, afterwards that Mrs. Charlment 
" had been the means of poisoning Lady Noel's 
" mind against me ; — that she had employed 
" herself and others in watching me in London, 
" and had reported having traced me into a 
" house in Portland-place. There was one act 
" of which I might justly have complained, and 
" which was unworthy of any one but such 
" a confidante : I allude to the breaking open 



44 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" my writing-desk. A hook was found in it 
" that did not do much credit to my taste in 
" literature, and some letters from a married 
" woman with whom I had been intimate be- 
" fore my marriage. The use that was made 
" of the latter was most unjustifiable, whatever 
" may be thought of the breach of confidence 
" that led to their discovery. Lady Byron 
" sent them to the husband of the lady, who 
*' had the good sense to take no notice of theii' 
" contents. The gravest accusation that has 
" been made against me is that of having in- 
" trigued with Mrs. Mardyn in my own house, 
" introduced her to my own table, &c. There 
" never was a more unfounded calumny. Being 
*' on the Committee of Drury-lane Theatre, 
" I have no doubt that several actresses called 
" on me ; but as to Mrs. Mardyn, who was 
" a beautiful woman, and might have been a 
" dangerous visitress, I was scarcely acquainted 
" (to speak) with lier. I might even make a 
" more serious charge against than em- 



LORD BYRON. 45 

^' ploying spies to watch suspected amours, * 

•* * * * * # 

^ * * # * * 

* # * * * ■» 

" I had been shut up in a dark street in Lon- 
" don, writing (I think he said) ' The Siege of 
" Corinth,' and had refused myself to every one 
*' till it was finished. I was surprised one day 
" by a Doctor and a Lawyer almost forcing 
*^ themselves at the same time into my room. 
** I did not know till afterwards the real object 
" of their visit. I thought their questions sin- 
" gular, frivolous, and somewhat importunate, 
" if not impertinent : but^what should I have 
" thought, if I had known that they were sent 
" to provide proofs of my insanity ? * ^ 



(t) 



(t) '' For Inez call'd some druggists and physicians. 
And tried to prove her loving lord was mad ; 
But as he had some lucid intermissions, 

She next decided he was only bad. ^ 



46 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" I have no doubt that my answers to these 
" emissaries' interrogations were not very ra- 
" tional or consistent, for my imagination was 
" heated by other things. But Dr. Baillie 
" could not conscientiously make me out a cer- 
" tificate for Bedlam ; and perhaps the Lawyer 
" gave a more favourable report to his employ- 
" ers. The Doctor said afterwards, he had 
" been told that I always looked down when 
" Lady Byron bent her eyes on me, and exhi- 
^' bited other symptoms equally infallible, par- 
** ticularly those that marked the late King's 



Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions. 

No sort of explanation could be had. 
Save that her duty both to man and God 

Required this conduct, — which seem'd very odd. 
She kept a journal where his faults were noted. 

And open'd certain trunks of books and letters. 
All which might, if occasion served, be quoted : 

And then she had all Seville for abettors, 

Besides her good old grandmother " 

Don J nan, Canto I. Stanzas 27 and 28. 



LORD BYEON. 47 

** case so strongly. I do not, however, tax Lady 
" Byron with this transaction ; probably she 
" was not privy to it. She was the tool of 
" others. Her mother always detested me ; 
" she had not even the decency to conceal it 
'* in her own house. Dining one day at Sir 
" Ralph's, (who was a good sort of man, and of 
**' whom you may form some idea, when I tell 
" you that a leg of mutton was always served 
" at his table, that he might cut the same joke 
" upon it,) I broke a tooth, and was in great 
" pain, which I could not avoid shewing.* ' It 
** will do you good,' said Lady Noel ; ' I am 
" glad of it !' I gave her a look ! 

" You ask if Lady Byron were ever in love 
" with me — I have answered that question 
" already — No ! I was the fashion when she 
" first came out : I had the character of being 
" a great rake, and was a great dandy— both 
"of which young ladies like. She married 
" me from vanity, and the hope of reforming 



4<S CONVERSATIONS Ol 

" and fixing me. She ^^'as a spoiled child, 
" and naturally of a jealous disposition ; and 
" this was increased Ijy the infernal machina- 
" tions of those in her confidence. 

" She was easily made the dupe of the de- 
" signing, for she thought her knowledge of 
" mankind infallible : she had got some foolish 
" idea of Madame de Stael's into her head, that 
" a person may be better known in the first 
" hour than in ten years. She had the habit 
" of drawing people's characters after she had 
** seen them once or twice. She wrote pages 
" on pages about my character, but it was as 
" unlike as possible. 

" Lady Byron had good ideas, but could 
" never express them ; wrote poetry too, but it 
" was only good by accident. Her letters were 
" always enigmatical, often unintelligible. She 
" was governed by what she called fixed rules 



LORD BYRON. 49 

" and principles, squared mathematically.* She 
" would have made an excellent wrangler at 
" Cambridge. It must be confessed, however, 
" that she gave no proof of her boasted con- 
** sistency. First, she refused me, than she ac- 
" cepted me, then she separated herself from me : 
" — so much for consistency. I need not tell you 
" of the obloquy and opprobrium that were cast 
" upon my name when our separation was made 
" public. I once made a list from the Journals of 
" the day, of the different worthies, ancient and 
"modern, to whom I was compared. I remem- 
" ber a few : Nero, Apicius, Epicurus, Caligula, 
*- Heliogabalus, Henry the Eighth, and lastly 

" the . All my former friends, even my 

*^ cousin George Byron, who had been brought 
" up with me, and whom I loved as a brother. 



I think that Dante's more abstruse ecstatics 
Meant to personify the mathematics." 

Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 11. 
E 



50 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" took my wife's pait. He followed the stream 
" when it was strongest against me, and can 
" never expect any thing from me ; he shall 
" never touch a sixpence of mine. I was looked 
" upon as the worst of husbands, the most 
" abandoned and wicked of men, and my wife 
*• as a suffering angel — an incarnation of all the 
" virtues and perfections of the sex. I was 
" abused in the public prints, made the common 
" talk of private companies, hissed as I went 
*^ to the House of Lords, insulted in the streets, 
'^ afraid to go to the theatre, whence the unfor- 
" tunate Mrs. Mardyn had been driven with 
" insult. The Examiner was the only paper 
" that dared say a word in my defence, and 
" Lady Jersey the only person in the fashionable 
" world that did not look upon me as a mon- 
" ster. 

" I once addressed some lines to her that 
*' made her my friend ever after. The subject 
" of them was suggested by her being excluded 



LORD BYRON. 51 

" from a certain cabinet of the beauties of the 
'' day. I have the lines somewhere, and will 
" shew them to you. 

" In addition to all these mortifications my 
" affairs were irretrievably involved, and almost 
^* so as to make me what they wished. I was 
" compelled to part with Newstead, which I 
" never could have ventured to sell in my mo- 
" ther's life-time. As it is, I shall never forgive 
" myself for having done so ; though I am told 
" that the estate would not now bring half as 
" much as I got for it. This does not at all re- 
" concile me to having parted with the old 
" abbey.* I did not make up my mind to this 
" step, but from the last necessity, I had my 
" wife's portion to repay, and was determined 



* The regard which he entertained for it is proved by 
the passage in Don Juan, Canto XIII. Stanza 55, be- 
ginning thus : 

" To Norman Abbey whirl'd the noble pair/' &c. 
E 2 



52 CONVEllSATIONS OF 

" to add 1 0,000/. more of my own to it ; which 
" I did. I always hated being in debt, and do 
'* not owe a guinea. The moment I had put 
" my affairs in train, and in little more than 
" eighteen months after my marriage, I left 
" England, an involuntary exile, intending it 
" should be for ever*." 

Speaking of the multitude of strangers, whose 
visits of curiosity or impertinence he was ha- 
rassed by for some years after he came abroad, 
particularly at Venice, he said : 

* His feelings may be conceived by the two follo^'ing 



I can't but say it is an awkward sight 
To see one's native land receding through 
The growing waters — it unmans one quite." 

Don Juan, Canto II. Stanza 12. 

Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again. 
With nought of hope left." 

C/ii/dc Harold, Canto III. Stanza Ifi. 



LORD BYRON. 53 

" Who would wish to make a show-bear of 
" himself, and dance to any tune any fool likes 
" to play ? Madame de Stael said, I think of 
** Goethe, that people who did not wish to be 
*^ judged by what they said, did not deserve 
" that the world should trouble itself about 
" what they thought. She had herself a most 
" unconscionable insatiability of talking and 
" shining. If she had talked less, it would 
" have given her time to have written more, 
*^ and would have been better. For my part, 
" it is indifferent to me what the world says 
** or thinks of me. Let them know me in 
" my books. My conversation is never bril- 
" liant. 

" Americans are the only people to whom I 
" never refused to shew myself. The Yankees in- 
" dividually are great friends of mine. I wish to 
" be well thought of on the other side of the At- 
" lantic ; not that I am better appreciated there. 



54 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

*' than on this ; perhaps worse. Some American 
" Reviewer has been persevering in his abuse 
*' and personality, but he should have minded 
" his ledger ; he never excited my spleen.* I 
*' was confirmed in my resolution of shutting 
'' my door against all the travelling English by 
" the impertinence of an anonymous scribbler, 
" who said he might have known me, but w^ould 
« not." 

I interrupted him by telling him he need not 
have been so angiy on that occasion, — that it 

* The taste and critical acumen of the American ma- 
gazine will appear from the following extract : 

" The verses (it is of ' The Prisoner of Chillon' that it 
speaks) are in the eight syllable measure, and occasionally 
dis})lay some pretty poetry ; at all events, there is little in 
them to offend. 

*' We do not find any passage of sufficient beauty or 
originality to warrant extract." 

Am, Critical Review, 1817« 



LOUD BYRON. 55 

was an authoress who had been guilty of that 
remark. " I don't wonder," added I, '' that a 
spinster should have avoided associating, with so 
dangerous an acquaintance as you had the cha- 
racter of being at Venice." 

/* Well, I did not know that these * Sketches 
" of Italy' were the production of a woman ; 
" but whether it was a Mr., Mrs., or Miss, the 
" remark was equally uncalled for. To be 
" sure, the life I led at Venice was not the most 
" saintlike in the world." 

** Yes,'* said I, " if you were to be cano- 
nized, it must be as San Ciappelletto." 

" Not so bad as that either," said he some- 
what seriously. 

" Venice," resumed he, " is a melancholy 
** place to reside in : — to see a city die daily 



5b CONVEUSATIOXS Ol' 

" as she does, is a sad contemplation. I sought 
" to distract my mind from a sense of her de- 
" solation, and my own soUtude, by phmging 
*' into a vortex that was any thing but plea- 
" sure. When one gets into a mill-stream, it 
*' is difficult to swim against it, and keep out 
" of the wheels. The consequences of being 
" carried down by it would furnish an excel- 
" cellent lesson for youth. You are too old 
*' to profit by it. But, who ever profited by 
*^ the experience of others, or his own ? When 
" you read my Memoirs, you will learn the 
" evils, moral and physical, of true dissipation. 
" I assure you my life is very entertaining, and 
'' very instructive." 

I said, " I suppose, when you left England, 
you were a Childe Harold, and at Venice a 
Don Giovanni, and Fletcher your Leporello." 
He laughed at the remark. I asked him, in 
M hat way his life would prove a good lesson ? 



LOKD BYRON. 57 

and he gave me several anecdotes of him- 
self, which I have thrown into a sort of nar- 
rative. 



" Almost all the friends of my youth are 
" dead ; either shot in duels, ruined, or in 
" the galleys :" (mentioning the names of se- 
veral.) 

" Among those I lost in the early part of 
" my career, was Lord Falkland, — poor fellow ! 
" our fathers' fathers were friends. He lost 
** his life for a joke, and one too he did not 
'Vmake himself. The present race is more 
" steady than the last. They have less consti- 
" tution, and not so much money ; — that ac- 
" counts for the change in their morals. 

" I am now tamed; but before I married, 
" shewed some of the blood of my ancestors. 
" It is ridiculous to say that we do not inherit 



58 CONVERSATIONS OF 

** our passions, as well as the gout, or any other 
" disorder. 



" I was not so young when my father died, 
" but that I perfectly remember him ; and had 
" very early a horror of matrimony, from the 
" sight of domestic broils : this feeling came 
" over me very strongly at my wedding. 
" Something whispered me that I was sealing 
" my own death-warrant. I am a gi*eat be- 
" liever in presentiments. Socrates' daemon 
" was no fiction ; Monk Lewis had his mo- 
" nitor, and Napoleon many warnings. At the 
" last moment I would have retreated, if I 
" could have done so. I called to mind a 
" friend of mine, who had married a young, 
*' beautiful, and ricli girl, and yet was mise- 
" rable. He had strongly urged me against 
" putting my neck in the same j^oke : and to 
" shew you how firmly I was resolved to at- 
'* tend to his advice, I betted Hay fifty giuneas 
" to one that I should always remain single. 



LORD BYE ON. 59 

" Six years afterwards I sent him the money. 
" The day before I proposed to Lady Byron, I 
" had no idea of doing so." 

After this digression he continued : — 

" I lost my father when I was only six years 
" of age. My mother, when she was in a rage 
" with me, (and I gave her cause enough,) used 
" to say, * Ah, you Httle dog, you are a Byron 
** all over ; you are as bad as your father !" 
" It was very different from Mrs. Malaprop's 
" saying, ' Ah ! good dear Mr. Malaprop, I never 
"loved him till he was dead.' But, in fact, 
" my father was, in his youth, any thing but 
" a ' Caelebs in search of a wife.' He would 
" have made a bad hero for Hannah More, 
" He ran out three fortunes, and married or 
" ran away with three women, and once want- 
" ed a guinea, that he wrote for ; I have the 
" note. He seemed born for his own ruin^ 
" and that of the other sex. He began by 



60 coxvl:ksati(3ns of 

*• seducing Lady Carmarthen, and sj)ent for 
" her 4000/. a-year ; and not content with 
" one adventure of this kind, afterwards 
^ eloped with Miss Gordon. His marriage 
" was not destined to be a very fortunate 
*' one either, and I dont wonder at her dif- 
" fering from Sheridan's widow in the play. 
" They certainly could not have claimed the 
** flitch. 

" The phrenologists tell me that other 
" lines besides that of thought" (tlie middle of 
three hoiizontal lines on his forehead, on 
which he prided himself,) " are strongly de- 
" veloped in the hinder part of my cranium ; 
" particularly that called philoprogenitiveness*. 
" I suppose, too, the })ugnacious bump might 



* He appears to have mistaken the meaning of this 
word in the vocabulary of the Craniologists, as in Do/t 
Juan. 



LORD BYRON. 61 

*' be found somewhere, because my uncle 
" had it. 

*' You have heard the unfortunate story of 
*' his duel with his relation and neighbour. 
** After that melancholy event, he shut himself 
'* up at Newstead, and was in the habit of 
" feeding crickets, which were his only compa- 
*' nions. He had made them so tame as to 
'* crawl over him, and used to whip them with 
" 2l wisp of straw, if too fandliar. When he 
** died, tradition says that they left the house 
*' in a body. I suppose I derive my supersti- 
** tion from this branch of the family ; but 
** though I attend to none of these new-fangled 
** theories, I am inclined to think that there is 
*' more in the chart of the skull than the Edin- 
** burgh Reviewers suppose*. However that 

* He had probably been reading the article on Gall and 
Spurzheim. 



62 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" may ])e, I was a wayward youth, and gave my 
** mother a world of trouble, — as I fear Ada 
" will hers, for I ain told she is a little terma- 
** gant. I had an ancestor too that expired laugli- 
'* ing, (I suppose that my good spirits came from 
" him;) and two whose affection was such for 
** each other, that they died ahnost at the same 
'* moment. There seems to have been a flaw 
** in my escutcheon there, or that loving couple 
*' have monopolized all the connubial bliss of 
'' the family. 

** I passed my boyhood at Mar Lodge near 
*' Aberdeen, occasionally visiting the High- 
** lands ; and long retained an affection for 
** Scotland* ;— that, I suppose, I imbibed from 
*' my mother. My love for it, however, was at 
" one time much shaken by the critique in ' The 
** Edinburgh Review' on ' The Hours of Idle* 
'* ness,' and I transferred a portion of my dislike 



* lie camo to Endund in 1798. 



LORD BYRON. 63 

*' to the couTitiy ; but my aiFection for it soon 
" flowed back into its old channel. 

" I don't know from whom I inherited verse- 
'^ making ; probably the wild scenery of Morven 
*' and Loch-na-gar, and the banks of the Dee, 
" were the parents of my poetical vein, and the 
** developers of my poetical boss. If it was so, 
** it was dormant ; at least, I never wrote any 
"thing worth mentioning till I was in love. 
" Dante dates his passion for Beatrice at twelve : 
" I was almost as young when I fell over head 
" and ears in love ; but I anticipate. I was 
'* sent to Harrow at twelve, and spent my vaca- 
" tions at Newstead. It was there that I first 

" saw Mary C * She was several years 

" older than myself: but, at my age, boys like 



It was a name 



Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not ;— and why 
Time taught him a deep answer/' 



The Dream. 



64 (JOXNEli SAT IONS OF 

" something older than themselves, as they do 
" younger, later in life. Our estates adjoined ; 
•' but, owing to the unhapj)y circumstance of the 
" feud to which I before alluded, our families (as 
" is generally the case with neighbours wlio 
" happen to be relations) were never on terms 
" of more than common civility, — scarcely 



" I have n passion for the name of ' ]Mary/ 
For once it was a magic sound to me ; 
And still it half calls up tlie realms of fairy. 
Where I beheld what never was to he. 
All feelings changed, hut this was last to vary — 
A spell from which even yet I am not quite free. 

But I grow sad ! " 

Bon Juan, Canto V. Stanza 4. 

" Yet still, to pay my court, I 



Gave what I had — a heart : — as the world went, I 
Gave what was worth a world, — for worlds could never 
Restore me the pure feelings gone for ever ! 
'Twas the boy's 'mite,' and, like the ' widow's,' may, 
Perhaps, be weigh'd hereafter, if not no^^^" 

Don Juan, Canto VI. Stanza o, »Jv:c. 



LORD BYRON. 65 

*' those. I passed the summer vacation of this 
" year among the Malvern hills : those were 
" days of romance ! She was the beau ideal of 
^' all that my youthful fancy could paint of 
" beautiful ; and I have taken all my fables 
" about the celestial nature of women from the 
" perfection my imagination created in her — I 
" say created, for I found her, like the rest of 
" the sex, any thing but angelic, 

" I returned to Harrow, after my trip to 
" Cheltenham, more deeply enamoured than 
" ever, and passed the next holidays at New- 
" stead. I now began to fancy myself a man, 
** and to make love in earnest. Our meetings 
"were stolen ones, and my letters passed 
" through the medium of a confidante. A gate 

** leading from Mr. C — ■ 's grounds to 

" those of my mother, was the place of our iri- 
" terviews. But the ardour was all on my 
** side. I was serious; she was volatile. She 
" liked me as a younger brother, and treated 

¥ 



66 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" and laughed at me as a boy. She, however, 
" gave me her pictm'e, and that was something 
" to make verses upon * 

^' During the last year that I was at Har- 
" row, all my thoughts were occupied on this 
" love-affair. I had, besides, a spirit that ill 
" brooked the restraints of school-discipline ; 
" for I had been encouraged by servants in all 
" my violence of temper, and was used to com- 
'* mand. Every thing like a task was repug- 
" nant to my nature ; and I came away a very 
" indifferent classic, and read in nothing that 
'' was useftil. That subordination, which is 

* He had always a black ribbon round his neck, to 
which was attached a locket containing hair and a picture. 
We had been playing at billiards one night till the balls 
appeared double, when all at once he searched hastily for 
sometliing under his waistcoat, and said, in great alarm, 

'' Good God ! I have lost my !" but before he 

had finished the sentence, he discovered the hidden trea- 
sure. 



LORD BYRON. 67 

" the soul of all discipline, I submitted to 
" with great difficulty ; yet I did submit to 
" it ; and I have always retained a sense of 
" Drury's"^ kindness, which enabled me to bear 
** it and fagging too. The Duke of Dorset 
"was my fag. I was not a very hard task- 
" master. There were times in which, if T 
" had not considered it as a school, I should 
" have been happy at Harrow. There is one 
" spot I should like to see again : I was parti- 
" cularly delighted with the view from the 
'^ Church-yard, and used to sit for hours on the 
" stile leading into the fields ; — even then I 
" formed a wish to be buried there. Of all 
" my schoolfellows I know no one for whom I 
" have retained so much friendship as for Lord 
" Clare. I have been constantly corresponding 
*^ with him ever since I knew he was in Italy ; 
" and look forward to seeing him, and talking 

* See Lines addressed to him in the ' Hours of Idle- 
ness/ 

F 2 



68 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" over with him our old Harrow stories, with 
" infinite delight. There is no pleasure in life 
" equal to that of meeting an old friend. You 
" know how glad I was to see Hay. Why did 
" not Scrope Davies come to see me ? Some 
" one told me that he was at Florence, but 
** it is impossible. 

" There are two things that strike me at 
*' this moment, which I did at Harrow : I 
" fought Lord Calthorpe for writing * D — d 
" Atheist !' under my name ; and prevented 
" the school-room from being burnt during a 
" rebellion, by pointng out to the boys the 
" names of their fathers and grandfathers on 
" the walls. 

" Had I married Miss C , perhaps the 

" whole tenor of my life would have been dif- 
^' ferent.* She jilted me, however ; but her 

* Perhaps in his lyrical pieces, even those * To Thyrza,' 



LORD BYUON. 69 

" marriage proved any thing but a happy one.* 
*^ She was at length separated from Mr. M— , 
*' and proposed an interview with me, but by 
" the advice of my sister I declined it. I re- 
" member meeting her after my return from 
"Greece, but pride had conquered my love; 
" and yet it was not with perfect indifference I 
" saw her.f 

"For a man to become a poet (witness Pe- 
" trarch and Dante) he must be in love, or 
" miserable. I was both when I wrote * The 

he never surpassed those exquisitely feeling Stanzas, be- 
ginning— 

'^ O had my fate been join'd to thine/' &c. 

* " the one 



To end in madness ; both in misery." 

The Dream. 

t " Yet I was calm. I knew the time 
My heart would swell but at thy look ; 
But now to tremble were a crime. 

We met, and not a nerve waK shook ! " 



70 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Hours of Idleness :' some of those poems, in 
" spite of what the reviewers say, are as good 
" as any I ever produced. 

" For some years after the event that had so 
" much influence on my fate, I tried to drown 
" the remembrance of it and her in the most 
" depraving dissipation ; f but the poison was 
" in the cup. * * * 

* * * :» * 

" There had been found by the gardener, in 
" digging, a skull that had probably belonged to 
" some jolly friar or monk of the Abbey about 
" the time it was dismonasteried." 

" I heard at the Countess S 's the other 

evening," said I, interrupting him, ** that you 



t '' And monks might deem their time was come agen. 
If ancient tales say true, nor wrong the holy men." 
Childe Harold, Canto I. Stanza 7- 



LORD BYRON, 71 

drink out of a skull now." He took no notice 
of my observation, but continued : 

" Observing it to be of giant size, and in a 
" perfect state of preservation, a strange fancy 
" seized me of having it set and mounted as a 
" drinking-cup. I accordingly sent it to townj 
'* and it returned with a very high polish, and 
" of a mottled colour like tortoiseshell ; (Colo- 
*' nel Wildman now has it.) I remember scrib- 
" bling some Hnes about it; but that was not all: 
" I afterwards established at the Abbey a new 
" order. The members consisted of twelve, and 
" I elected myself grand master, or Abbot of 
** the Skull, a grand heraldic title. A set of 
«' black gowns, mine distinguished from the rest, 
" was ordered, and from time to time, when a 
" particular hard day was expected, a chapter 
*' was held; the cr^/ze was filled with claret, 
'^ and, in imitation of the Goths of old, passed 
" about to the gods of the Consistory, whilst 
" many a grim joke was cut at its expense.'' 



72 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" You seem," said I, " to have had a particular 
predilection for skulls and cross-bones : a friend 

of mine, Mr. , told me he took some 

home for you from Switzerland." 

" They were from the field of Morat," said 
he ; "a single bone of one of those heroes is 
" worth all the skulls of all the priests that ever 
" existed." 

" Talking of Morat," said I, " where did you 

find the story of Julia Alpinula? M 

and I searched among its archives in vain." 

" I took the inscription," said he, " from an 
" old chronicle ; the stone has no existence. — 
" But to continue. You know the story of the 
" bear that I brought up for a degree when 
'* I was at Trinity. I had a great hatred of 
" College rules, and contempt for academical 
" honours. How many of their wranglers have 
** ever distinguished themselves in the world ? 
'* There was, by the bye, rather a witty satire 



LORD BYRON. 73 

" founded on my bear. A friend of Shelley's 
" made an Ourang Outang (Oran Hanton, Esq.) 
" the hero of a novel, had him created a baro- 
" net, and returned for the borough of One 
" Vote — I forget the name of the novel*. I 
'' believe they were as glad to get rid of me at 
" Cambridge t as they were at Harrow. 

" Another of the wild freaks I played during 
" my mother's life-time, was to dress up Mrs. 

" — , and to pass her off as my brother 

" Gordon, in order that my mother might not 
" hear of my having such a female acquaint- 
" ance. You would not think me a Scipio in 
" those days, but I can safely say I never se- 
" duced any woman. I will give you an in- 

" stance of great forbearance : — Mrs. L. G 

" wrote and offered to let me have her daugh- 
** ter for 1 00/. Can you fancy such depravity ? 



* Melincourt. 
t He remained at Cambridge till nineteen. 



74 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" The old lady's P. S. was excellent. ' With 
" dilicaci every thing may be made asy' But 
" the same post brought me a letter from the 
" young one deprecating my taking advantage 
" of their necessities, and ending with saying 
'' that she prized her virtue. I respected it too, 
" and sent her some money. 

" There are few Josephs in the world, 
** and many Potiphar's wives. A curious 
" thing happened to me shortly after the 
" honey-moon, which was very awkward at 
" the time, but has since amused me much. 
" It so happened that three married women 
" were on a wedding visit to my wife, (and 
'* in the same room, at the same time,) whom 
*' I had known to be all bu'ds of the same 
*' nest. Fancy the scene of confusion that 
" ensued ! 

" I have seen a great deal of Italian society? 
** and swum in a gondola, but notliing could 



LORD BYRON. 75 

" equal the profligacy of high life in England, 
" especially that of when I knew it. 

" There was a lady at that time, double my 
" own age, the mother of several children who 
" were perfect angels, with whom I had formed 
" a liaison that continued without interruption 
" for eight months. The autumn of a beauty 
" like her's is preferable to the spring in others. 
^' She told me she was never in love till she was 
" thirty ; and I thought myself so with her 
" when she was forty. I never felt a stronger 
" passion ; which she returned with equal 
" ardour. I was as fond of, indeed more at- 
" tached than I ought to have been, to one who 
" had bestowed her favours on many ; but I 
" was flattered at a preference that had led her 
" to discard another, who in personal attractions 
" and fashion was far my superior. She had 
^' been sacrificed, almost before she was a 
" woman, to one whose mind and body were 
" equally contemptible in the scale of creation ; 



76 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" and on whom she bestowed a numerous family, 
" to which the law gave him the right to be 
" called father. Strange as it may seem, she 
" gained (as all women do) an influence over 
" me so strong, that I had great difficulty in 
" breaking with her, even when I knew she had 
" been inconstant to me ; and once was on the 
" point of going abroad with her, — and nar- 
" rowly escaped this folly. I was at this time a 
" mere Bond-street lounger — a great man at 
" lobbies, coffee and gambling-houses : my after- 
" noons were passed in visits, luncheons, loung- 
'* ing and boxing — not to mention drinking ! 
" If I had known you in early life, you would 
" not have been alive now. I remember 

" Scrope Davies, H , and myself, clubbing 

" 19/., all we had in our pockets, and losing it 
" at a hell in St. James's-street, at chicken- 
" hazard, which may be called fowl ; and after- 
" wards getting dnmk together till H. and S. D. 
" quarreUed. Scrope afterwards wrote to me 
'* for my pistols to shoot himself; but I declined 



LOUD BYRON. 77 

" lending them, on the plea that they would be 
" forfeited as a deodand. I knew my answer 
" would have more effect than four sides of 
" prosing. 

" Don't suppose, however, that I took any 
"pleasure in all these excesses, or that parson 
*' A. K. or W — were associates to my taste, 
" The miserable consequences of such a life are 
" detailed at length in my Memoirs. My own 
" master at an age when I most required a 
" guide, and left to the dominion of my passions 
'^ when they were the strongest, with a fortune 
" anticipated before I came into possession of it, 
" and a constitution impaired by early excesses, 
" I commenced my travels in 1809, with a joy- 
" less indifference to a world that was all before 



* " I wish they knew the life of a young noble ; 

♦ * * « * 

They 're young, but know not youth ; it is anticipated; 

Hand- 



79 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Well might you say, speaking feelingly," 
said I : 

" There is no sterner moraUst than pleasure*." 

I asked him about Venice : 

" Venice ! '' said he, " I detest every recol- 
" lection of the place, the people, and my pur- 
" suits. I there mixed again in society, trod 
" again the old round of conversaziones, balls, 
" and concerts, was every night at the opera, a 
'' constant frequenter of the Ridotto during the 
" Cai-nival, and, in short, entered into all the 
" dissipation of that luxurious place. Every 



Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou ; 
Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated, 
Their cash comes from, their wealth goes to a Jew." 
Don Juan, Canto XI. Stanzas 74 and 75. 

* He used to say there were three great men ruined in 
one year, Brummell, himself, and Napoleon ! 



LORD BYRON. 79 

"thing in a Venetian life,~-its gondolas, its 
" effeminating indolence, its Siroccos, — tend to 
" enervate the mind and body. My rides were 
'* a resource and a stimulus ; but the deep sands 
" of Lido broke my horses down, and I got 
" tired of that monotonous sea-shore ; — to be 
" sure, I passed the Villeggiatura on the Brenta*. 



* To give the reader an idea of the stories circulated 
and believed about Lord Byron, I will state one as a spe- 
cimen of the rest, which I heard the other day ; 

" |jord Byron, who is an execrably bad horseman, was 
riding one evening in the Brenta, spouting ^ Metastasio/ 
A Venetian, passing in a close carriage at the time, laugh- 
ed at his bad Italian j; upon which his Lordship horse- 
whipped him, and threw a card in at the window. The 
nobleman took no notice of the insiilt." — Answer. Lord 
Byron was an excellent horseman, never read a line of 
^ Metastasio,' and pronounced Italian like a native. He 
must have been remarkably ingenious to horsewhip in a 
close carriage, and find a nobleman who pocketed the 
affront ! But " ex uno disce omnes" 



80 CONVERSATIONS OF 

'* I wTOte little at Venice, and was forced 
" into the search of pleasure, — an employment 
*' I was soon jaded with the pursuit of. 

" Women were there, as they have ever been 
" fated to be, my bane. Like Napoleon, I have 
" always had a great contempt for women ; and 
" formed this opinion of them not hastily, but 
" from my own fatal experience. My writings, 
" indeed, tend to exalt the sex ; and my imagi- 
" nation has always delighted in giving them a 
" beau ideal likeness, but I only drev/ them as a 
" painter or statuary would do, — as they should 
" be.* Perhaps my prejudices, and keeping them 

* His ' Medora, Gulnare (Kaled), Zuleika, Thyrza, 
Angiolina, IMyrrha, Adah, — and Haidee/ in Don Juan, 
are beautiful creations of gentleness, sensibility, firmness, 
and constancy. If, as a reviewer has sagely discovered, 
aU his male characters, from. Childe Harold down to 
Lucifer, are the same, he cannot be denied the dramatic 
faculty in his women, — in \vhom there is little family 
likeness. 



LORD BYRON. 81 

*' at a distance, contributed to prevent the 
*' illusion from altogether being worn out and 
" destroyed as to their celestial qualities. 

" They are in an unnatural state of society. 
" The Turks and Eastern people manage these 
" matters better than we do. They lock them 
" up, and they are much happier. Give a 
" woman a looking-glass and a few sugar-plums, 
" and she will be satisfied. 

" I have suffered from the other sex ever 
" since I can remember any thing. I began by 
" being jilted, and ended by being un wived. 
" Those are wisest who make no connexion of 
" wife or mistress. The knight-service of the 
" Continent, with or without the ^, is perhaps a 
" slavery as bad, or worse, than either. An in- 
" trigue with a married woman at home, though 
" more secret, is equally difficult to break. I 
" had no tie of any kind at Venice, yet I was 
" not without my annoyances. You may re- 

G 



82 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" member seeing the portrait of a female whicli 
** Mm-ray got engraved, and dubbed my ' For- 



" Harlowe, the poor fellow who died soon 
" after his return from Rome, and who used to 
" copy pictures from memory, took my likeness 
" when he was at Venice : and one day this frail 
" one, who was a casual acquaintance of mine, 
" happened to be at my palace, and to be seen 
" by the painter, who was struck with her, and 
" begged she might sit to him. She did so, and 
" I sent the drawing home as a specimen of the 
'* Venetians, and not a bad one either ; for the 
** jade was handsome, though the most trouble- 
" "some shrew and termagant I ever met with. 
*' To give you an idea of the lady, she used to 
" call me the Gran Cane delta Madonna. WTien 
" once she obtained a footing inside my door, 
" she took a dishke to tlie outside of it, and I 
" had great difficulty in uncolonizing her. She 
" forced her way back one day wlien I was at 



XORD BYRON. 83 

** dinner, and snatching a knife from the table, 
" offered to stab herself if I did not consent to 
" her stay. Seeing I took no notice of her 
" threat, as knowing it to be only a feint, she 
" ran into the balcony and threw herself into 
" the canal. As it was only knee-deep and there 
" were plenty of gondolas, one of them picked 
" her up. This affair made a great noise at the 
*^ time. Some said that I had thrown her into 
" the water, others that she had drowned her- 
" self for love ; but this is the real story. 

" I got into nearly as great a scrape by 
" making my court to a spinster. As many 
" Dowagers as you please at Venice, but beware 
'^ of flirting with Raggazzas. I had been one 
"night under her window serenading, and the 
" next morning who should be announced at the 
" same time but a priest and a police-officer, 
'* come, as I thought, either to shoot or marry 
** me again, — I did not care which. I was dis- 
" gusted and tired with the life I led at Venice, 
G 2 



84 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*' and was glad to turn my back on it. The 
" Austrian Government, too, partly contributed 
" to drive me away. They intercepted my books 
'' and papers, opened my letters, and proscribed 
" my works. I was not sorry for this last arbi- 
*' trary act, as a very bad translation of * Childe 
" Harold' had just appeared, which I was not 
"at all pleased with. I did not like my old 
" friend in his new loose di-ess ; it was a desha- 
^* biUe that did not at all become him, — those 
" sciolti versi that they put him into.'' 



It is difficult to judge, from the contradictory 
nature of his wntings, what the religious opi- 
nions of Lord Byron really were. Perhaps the 
conversations I held with him may throw some 
light upon a subject that cannot fail to excite 
curiosity. On the whole, I am inclined to think 
that if he were occasionally sceptical, and 
thought it, as he says, 



J 



LORD BYRON. 85 

— " A pleasant voyage, perhaps, to float, 

Like Pyrrho, on a sea of speculation,"* 

yet his wavering never amounted to a disbelief 
in the divine Founder of Christianity. 

" I always took great delight," observed he, 
" in the English Cathedral service. It cannot 
" fail to inspire every man, who feels at all, with 
" devotion. Notwithstanding which, Christi- 
" anity is not the best source of inspiration for 
" a poet. No poet should be tied down to a 
" direct profession of faith. Metaphysics open 
"a vast field ; Nature, and anti-Mosaical specu- 
" lations on the origin of the world, a wide 
" range, and sources of poetry that are shut out 
" by Christianity." 

I advanced Tasso and Milton. 



Don Juan^ Canto IX. Stanza 18. 



86 COlSfVERSATIONS OF 

" Tasso and Milton," replied he, " wrote on 
" Christian subjects, it is true ; but how did 
" they treat them ? The ' Jerusalem Delivered' 
" deals little in Christian doctrines, and the 
" ' Paradise Lost' makes use of the heathen my- 
" thology, which is surely scarcely allowable. 
" Milton discarded papacy, and adopted no 
" creed in its room ; he never attended divine 
" worship. 

" His great epics, that nobody reads, prove 
" nothing. He took his text from the Old and 
" New Testaments. He shocks these vere ap- 
" prehensions of the Catholics, as he did those 
" of the divines of his day, by too great a fa- 
" miliarity with Heaven, and the introduction 
" of the Divinity himself; and, more than all, 
" by making the Devil his hero, and deifying 
" the daemons. 

" He certainly excites compassion for Satan, 
" and endeavours to make him out an injui-ed 



LOUD BYUON. 87 

** personage — he gives him human passions too, 
" makes him pity Adam and Eve, and justify 
" himself much as Prometheus does. Yet Mil- 
" ton was never blamed for all this. I should 
" be very curious to know what his real belief 
" was.* The ' Paradise Lost' and ' Regained' 
" do not satisfy me on this point. One might 
" as well say that Moore is a fire-worshipper, 
" or a follower of Mokanna, because he chose 
" those subje€ts from the East ; or that I am 
" a Cainist." 

Another time he said : 

" One mode of worship yields to another ; no 
" rehgion has lasted more than two thousand 
" years. Out of the eight hundred millions 
" that the globe contains, only two hundred 
" millions are Christians. Query, — What is 

* A religious work of Milton's has since been discovered, 
and will throw light on this interesting subject. 



88 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" to become of the six hundred milUons that do 
" not believe, and of those incalculable milUons 
" that Hved before Christ ? 

" People at home are mad about Missionary 
" Societies, and missions to the East. I have 
" been applied to, to subscribe, several times 
" since, and once before I left England. The 
" Cathohc priests have been labouring hard for 
" nearly a century ; but what have they done ? 
" Out of eighty millions of Hindoos, how many 
" proselytes have been made ? Sir J. IVIalcolm 
" said at Murray's before several persons, that 
" the Padres, as he called them, had only made 
" six converts at Bombay during his time, and 
" that even this black little flock forsook their 
" shepherds when the rum was out. Their 
" faith evaporated with the fumes of the arrack. 
" Besides, the Hindoos believe that they have 
" had nine incarnations : the Missionaries preach, 
" that a people whom the Indians only know to 



LORD BYRON. 89 

" despise, have had one. It is nine to one 
" against them, by their own shewing. 

" Another doctrine can never be in repute 
" among the Solomons of the East. It cannot 
" be easy to persuade men who have had as 
" many wives as they pleased, to be content 
" with one ; besides, a woman is old at twenty 
" in that country. What are men to do ? 
" They are not all St. Anthonies. — I will tell 
" you a story. A certain Signior Antonio of 
" my acquaintance married a very little round 
" fat wife, very fond of waltzing, who went by 
" the name of the Tentazione di Sanf Antonio. 
" There is a picture, a celebrated one, in which 
" a little woman not unresembling my descrip- 
" tion plays the principal role, and is most 
" troublesome to the Saint, most trying to his 
" virtue. Very few of the modern saints wUl 
" have his forbearance, though they may imitate 
'* him in his martyrdom. 



90 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" I have been reading," said he one day, 
" Tacitus' account of the siege of Jerusalem, 
" under Titus. What a sovereign contempt the 
" Romans had for the Jews ! Their country 
" seems to have been little better than them- 
" selves. 

" Priestley denied the original sin, and that 
" any would be damned. Wesley, the object 
" of Sou they 's panegyric, preached the doctrines 
" of election and faith, and, Hke all the sec- 
" tarians, does not want texts to prove both. 

" The best Christians can never be satisfied 
" of their own salvation. Dr. Johnson died like 
" a coward, and Cowper was near shooting him- 
" self; Hume went off the stage like a brave 
" man, and Voltaire's last moments do not 
*' seem to have been clouded by any fears of 
" what was to come. A man may study any 
*' thing till he believes in it. Creech died a 
•* Lucretian, Burckhardt and Browne were Mo- 



LOUD BYUON. 91 

" hammedans. Sale, the translator of the Ko- 
" ran, was suspected of being an Islamite, but 
" a very diflferent one from you, Shiloh*, (as he 
" sometimes used to call Shelley.) 

" You are a Protestant — you protest against 

" all religions. There is T will traduce 

" Dante till he becomes a Dantist. I am called 
" a Manichsean : I may rather be called an Any- 
" chaean, or Anything-arian. How do you 
" like my sect ? The sect of Anything-arians 
" sounds well, does it not ? " 

Calling on him the next day, we found him, 
as was sometimes the case, silent, dull, and 
sombre. At length he said : 

" Here is a little book somebody has sent me 
" about Christianity, that has made me very 
''^^uncomfortable : the reasoning seems to me 



* Alluding to ' The Revolt of Islam.' 



92 CONVEKSATIONS (3F 

" veiy strong, the proofs are very staggering. 
" I don't think you can answer it, Shelley ; at 
" least I am sure I can't, and what is more, I 
" don't wish it." 

Speaking of Gibbon, he said : — 

" L B tliought the question set 

" at rest in the ' History of the Decline and Fall,' 
" but I am not so easily convinced. It is not a 
" matter of volition to unbelieve. Who likes 
" to own that he has been a fool all his life, — to 
" unlearn all that he has been taught in his 
" youth ? or can think that some of the best men 
" that ever lived have been fools ? I have often 
" wished I had been born a Catholic. That 
" purgatory of theirs is a comfortable doctrine ; 
" I wonder the reformers gave it up, or did not 
" substitute something as consolatory in its 
" room. It is an improvement on the transmi- 
" gration, Shelley, which all your wiseacre 
" philosophers taught. 



LORD BYRON. 93 

" You believe in Plato^s three principles; — 
" why not in the Trinity ? One is not more 
" mystical than the other. I don't know why 
" I am considered an enemy to religion, and an 
" unbeliever. I disowned the other day that I 
" was of Shelley's school in metaphysics, though 
" I admired his poetry ; not but what he has 
" changed his mode of thinking very much 
" since he wrote the Notes to ' Queen Mab,' 
" which I was accused of having a hand in. I 
" know, however, that I am considered an in- 
" fidel. My wife and sister, when they joined 
" parties, sent me prayer-books. There was a 
" Mr. Mulock, who went about the Conti- 
" nent preaching orthodoxy in politics and 
" religion, a writer of bad sonnets, and a 
" lecturer in worse prose, — he tried to con- 
" vert me to some new sect of Christianity. 
" He was a great anti-materialist, and abused 
" Locke." 



94 CONVERSATIONS OF 

On another occasion he said : 

" I am always getting new coiTespondents. 
" Here are three letters just anived, from 
" strangers all of them. One is fi'om a French 
" woman, who has been writing to me off and 
" on for the last three years. She is not only a 
" blue-bottle, but a poetess, I suspect. Her 
" object in addressing me now, she says, is to 
" get me to write on the loss of a slave-ship, 
" the particulars of which she details. 

" The second epistle is short, and in a hand 
** I know very well: it is anonymous too. 
" Hear what she says : ' I cannot longer exist 
" without acknowledging the tumultuous and 
" agonizing delight with which my soul bums 
" at the glow ing beauties of yours/ 

" A third is of a very different character from 
" the last ; it is from a Mr. Sheppard, in- 



LORD BYUON. 95 

" closing a prayer made for my welfare by 
" his wife a few days before her death. The 
" letter states that he has had the misfortune 
" to lose this amiable woman, who had seen 
" me at Ramsgate, many years ago, rambling 
" among the cliffs ; that she had been impress- 
" ed with a sense of my irreligion from the 
^* tenor of my works, and had often prayed 
" fervently for my conversion, particularly in 
" her last moments. The prayer is beautifully 
" written. I like devotion in women. She 
" must have been a divine creature. I pity 
" the man who has lost her ! I shall write to 
** him by return of the courier, to console with 
" him, and tell him that Mrs. S — — — need 
" not have entertained any concern for my 
" spiritual affairs, for that no man is more 
" of a Christian than I am, whatever my 
" writings may have led her and others to 
" suspect." 



96 CONVERSATIONS OF 

January. 
" A circumstance took place in Greece that 
" impressed itself lastingly on my memory. I 
" had once thought of founding a tale on it ; 
" but the subject is too harrowing for any 
" nerves, — too terrible for any ])en ! An order 
" was issued at Yanina by its sanguinary Rajah, 
*' that any Turkish woman convicted of in- 
" continence with a Christian should be stoned 
" to death ! Love is slow at calculating dan- 
" gers, and defies tyrants and their edicts ; and 
" many were the victims to the savage barba- 
" rity of this of All's. Among others a girl of 
" sixteen, of a ])eauty such as that country 
" only produces, fell under the vigilant eye of 
" the police. She was suspected, and not 
" witliout reason, of carrying on a secret in- 
" trigue with a Neapolitan of some rank, whose 
" long stay in the city could be attributed to 
" no other cause than this attachment. Her 
" crime (if crime it be to love as they loved) was 
" too fully proved ; they were torn from each 



LORD BYRON. 97 

" other's arms, never to meet again : and yet 
" both might have escaped, — she by abjuring 
" her religion, or he by adopting hers. They 
" resolutely refused to become apostates from 
" their faith. Ali Pacha was never known to 
*' pardon. She was stoned by those daemons, 
*' although in the fourth month of her preg- 
" nancy ! He was sent to a town where the 
" plague was raging, and died happy in not 
" having long outlived the object of his affec- 
" tions ! 

" One of the principal incidents in ' The 
*' Giaour' is derived from a real occurrence, and 
" one too in which I myself was nearly and 
*' deeply interested ; but an unwillingness to 
*' have it considered a traveller's tale made me 
" suppress the fact of its genuineness. The 
" Marquis of Sligo, who knew the particulars of 
" the story, reminded me of them in England, 
" and wondered I had not authenticated them 
" in the Preface : — 

H 



98 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" When I was at Athens, there was an 
" edict in force similar to that of Ali's, except 
" that the mode of punishment was different. 
" It was necessary, therefore, that all love- 
" affairs should be carried on with the gi'eatest 
" privacy. I was very fond at that time of a 
" Turkish girl, — ay, fond of her as I have 
" been of few women. All went on very well 
*• till the Ramazan. For forty days, which is 
*' rather a long fast for lovers, all intercourse 
" between the sexes is forbidden by law, as 
" well as by rehgion. During this Lent of 
" the Mussulmans, the women are not allowed 
" to quit their apartments. I was in despair, 
*' and could hardly contrive to get a cinder, or 
*' a token-flower sent to express it. We had 
'* not met for several days, and all my thoughts 
" were occupied in planning an assignation, 
" when, as ill fate would have it, the means I 
*' took to effect it led to the discovery of our 
" seaet. The penalty was death, — death with- 
" out reprieve, — a horrible death, at which one 



LOUD BYUON. 99 

''' cannot think without shuddering ! An order 
" was issued for the law being put into im- 
" mediate effect. In the mean time I knew 
" nothing of what had happened, and it was 
" determined that I should be kept in ignorance 
" of the whole affair till it was too late to in- 
" terfere. A mere accident only enabled me to 
" prevent the completion of the sentence. I 
" was taking one of my usual evening rides by 
" the sea-side, when I observed a crowd of 
" people moving down to the shore, and the 
" arms of the soldiers glittering among them. 
" They were not so far off, but that I thought I 
" could now and then distinguish a faint and 
'' stifled shriek. My curiosity was forcibly ex- 
" cited, and I dispatched one of my followers to 
" enquire the cause of the procession. What 
'* was my horror to learn that they were carry- 
" ing an unfortunate girl, sewn up in a sack, to 
'' be thrown into the sea ! I did not hesitate 
" as to what was to be done. I knew I could 
"* depend on my faithful Albanians, and rode 
H 2 



100 CONVERSATIONS OF 

'* up to the officer commanding the party, 
" threatening, in case of his refusal to give up 
" his prisoner, that I would adopt means to 
" compel him. He did not Hke the busi- 
" ness he was on, or perhaps the determined 
" look of my body-guard, and consented to 
" accompany me back to the city with the girl, 
" whom I soon discovered to be my Turkish 
" favourite. Suffice it to say, that my inter- 
" ference with the chief magistrate, backed by 
" a heavy bribe, saved her ; but it was only on 
'' condition that I should break off all inter- 
" course with her, and that she should imme- 
" diately quit Athens, and be sent to her 
" friends in Thebes. There she died, a few 
" days after her arrival, of a fever — ^perhaps of 
" love." 



I 



'* The severest fever I ever had was at Pa- 
" tras. I had left Fletcher at Constantinople — 



LORD BYRON. 101 

" convalescent, but unable to move from weak- 
" ness, and had no attendants but my Alba- 
" nians, to whom I owe my life. 

" They were devotedly attached to me, and 
" watched me day and night. I am more in- 
" debted to a good constitution for having got 
" over this attack, than to the drugs of an igno- 
" rant Turk, who called himself a physician. 
" He would have been glad to disown the 
" name, and resign his profession too, if he 
" could have escaped from the responsibility 
" of attending me ; for my Albanians came the 
" Grand Signior over him, and threatened that 
" if I were not entirely recovered at a certain 
" hour on a certain day, they would take his life* 
" They are not people to make idle threats, and 
" would have carried them into execution had 
" any thing happened to me. You may imagine 
" the fright the poor devil of a doctor was in ; 
" and I could not help smiling at the ludicrous 



102 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" way in which his fears shewed themselves. I 
" beheve he was more pleased at my recovery 
" than either my faithful nurses, or myself I 
" had no intention of dying at that time ; but 
" if I had died, a similar thing would have been 
" told of me to that related as ha\4ng happened 
" to Colonel Sherbrooke in America. On the 
" very day my fever was at the highest, a fi'iend 
" of mine declared that he saw me in St. James's 
" Street ; and somebody put my name down in 
" the book at the Palace, as having enquired 
" after the King's health ! 

" Every body would have said that my ghost 
" had appeared." 

" But how were they to have reconciled a 
ghost's writing ? " asked I. 

** I should most likely have passed the re- 
" mainder of my Hfe in Turkey, if I had not 



LORD EYEON. 103 

" been called home by my mother's death and 
" my affairs," said he. " I mean to return to 
" Greece, and shall in all probability die there." 

Little did I think, at the time he was pro- 
nouncing these words, that they were prophetic ! 



" I became a member of Drury-lane Com- 
" mittee, at the request of my friend Douglas 
" Kinnaird, who made over to me a share of 
" 500/. for the purpose of qualifying me to vote. 
" One need have other qualifications besides 
** money for that office. I found the employ-" 
" ment not over pleasant, and not a little dan- 
" gerous, what with Irish authors and pretty 
" poetesses. Five hundred plays were offered 
" to the Theatre during the year I was Literary 
" Manager. You may conceive that it was no 
" small task to read all this trash, and to satisfy 
" the bards that it was so. 



104 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" When I first entered upon theatrical affairs, 
I had some idea of writing for the house 
' myself, but soon became a convert to Pope's 

* opinion on that subject. Who would conde- 
' scend to the drudgery of the stage, and enslave 

himself to the humours, the caprices, the taste 

* or tastelessness, of the age ? Besides, one 
' must write for particular actors, have them 
' continually in one's eye, sacrifice character to 

* the personating of it, cringe to some favourite 
' of the pubHc, neither give him too many nor 
' too few lines to spout, think how he would 

* mouth such and such a sentence, look such 
' and such a passion, sti*ut such and such a 
' scene. Who, I say, would submit to all this ? 
' Shakspeare had many advantages : he was an 

* actor by profession, and knew all the tricks of 
' the trade. Yet he had but little fame in his 
' day : see what Jonson and his contemporaries 
' said of him. Besides, how few of what are 
' called Shakspeare 's plays are exclusively so \ 



LORD BYRON. 105 

" and how, at this distance of time, and lost as 
" so many works of that period are, can we se- 
" parate what really is from what is not his 

** own ? 

>' The players retrenched, transposed, and 
" even altered the text, to suit the audience or 
" please themselves. Who knows how much 
" rust they rubbed off? I am sure there is rust 
" and base metal to spare left in the old plays. 
" When Leigh Hunt comes we shall have bat- 
" ties enough about those old ruffianly the old 
" dramatists, with their tiresome conceits, their 
" jingling rhymes, and endless play upon words. 
" It is but lately that people have been satisfied 
" that Shakspeare was not a god, nor stood alone 
" in the age in which he lived ; and yet how 
" few of the plays, even of that boasted time, 
" have survived ! and fewer still are now acted. 
" Let us count them. Only one of Massin- 
" ger's (New Way to pay Old Debts), one of 



106 CONVEKISATIOXS OF 

" Ford's,* one of Ben Jonson's,* and half-a- 
" dozen of Shakspeare's ; and of these last, 
" * The Two Gentlemen of Verona' and ' The 
" Tempest ' have been turned into operas. You 
" cannot call that having a theatre. Now that 
" Kemble has left the stage, who will endure 
" Coriolanus ? Lady Macbeth died with Mrs. 
" Siddons, and Polonius will with Munden. 
" Shakspeare's Comedies are quite out of date ; 
" many of them are insufferable to read, much 
" more to see. They are gi'oss food, only fit for 
" an English or German palate ; they are indi- 
" gestible to the French and Italians, the po- 
*• litest people in the world. One can hardly 
" find ten lines together without some gross vio- 
" lation of taste or decency. A\^hat do you 
" think of Bottom in the * Midsummer Night's 
" Dream ? ' or of Troilus and Cressida passim.'' 

Here I could not help interrupting him by 



* Of u hicli 1 have forgot tlic name he mentioned. 



If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth. 

When Time is old, and hath forgot itself. 

When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy, 

And blind Obhvion swallow'd cities up. 

And mighty states characterless are grated 

To dusty nothing, — yet let memory 

From false to false, among false maids in love. 

Upbraid my falsehood ! when they 've said, -As false 

As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, 

As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 

Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ; 

Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood — 

As false as Cressid !' " 

These lines he pronounced with great em- 
phasis and effect, and continued : 



LORD BYRON. 107 

sayingj " You have named the two plays that, 
with all their faults, contain perhaps some of \ 
the finest poetry." 

** Yes," said he, " in * Troilus and" Cres- 
" sida :' 

' Prophet may you be ! 



108 CONVERSATIONS OF 

'• But what has poetry to do with a play, or 
" in a play ? There is not one passage in AJ- 
" fieri strictly poetical ; hardly one in Racine." 

Here he handed me a prospectus of a new 
translation of Shakspeare into French prose, 
and read part of the first scene in * The Tem- 
pest,' laughing inwardly, as he was used to 
do ; and afterwards produced a passage from 
Chateaubriand, contending that we have no 
theatre. 

" The French very properly ridicule our 
" bringing in * enfant au premier acte, barbon 
" au dernier' I was always a friend to the 
" unities, and believe that subjects are not 
" wanting which may be treated in strict con- 
" formity to their rules. No one can be absurd 
" enough to contend, that the preservation of 
" the unities is a defect, — at least a fault. 
" Look at Alfieri's plays, and tell me what 
'' is wanting in them. Does he ever deviate 



LORD BYRON. 109 

" from the rules prescribed by the ancients, 
" from the classical simplicity of the old mo- 
" dels ? It is very difficult, almost impossible, 
" to write any thing to please a modern au- 
" dience. I was instrumental in getting up 
" ' Bertram,' and it was said that I wrote part 
" of it myself. That was not the case. I 
"knew Maturin to be a needy man, and in- 
" terested myself in his success ; but its life 
" was very feeble and ricketty. I once thought 
" of getting Joanna BailUe's ' De Montfort' 
" revived ; but the winding-up was faulty. 
" She was herself aware of this, and wrote 
" the last act over again ; and yet, after all, it 
" failed. She must have been dreadfully an- 

" noyed, even more than Lady was. 

" When it was bringing out, I was applied to 
" to write a prologue ; but as the request 
" did not come from Kean, who was to speak 
" it, I declined it. There are fine things in all 
" the Plays on the Passions : an idea in * De 
" Montfort' struck me particularly ; one of the 



110 CONVEUSATIONS OF 

" characters said that he knew the footsteps of 
" another.* 

" There are four words in Alfieri that speak 
" volumes. They are in * Don Carlos.' The 
" King and his Minister are secreted during an 
" interview of the Infant with the Queen Con- 
" sort : the following dialogue passes, which 
" ends the scene : — ' Vedesti ? Vecii. Udisti ? 
" Udi.^ All the dramatic beauty would be lost 
" in translation — the nominative cases would 
" kill it. Nothing provokes me so much as the 
" squeamishness that excludes the exhibition of 
" many such subjects from the stage ; — a squea- 
" mishness, the produce, as I firmly believe, of 



* " Dc Mofil fur/. —'Tis Rezeiivelt : I heard his well- 

knowii foot ! 
From the first staircase, mounting step by step. 
" Fichcri^. — How (juick an ear thou hast for distant 

sound ! 

I heard him not." 

Act II. Scene 2. 



LORD BYRON. Ill 

** a lower tone of the moral sense, and foreign 
" to the majestic and confident virtue of the 
" golden age of our country. All is now cant — 
" methodistical cant. Shame flies from the 
" heart, and takes refuge in the lips ; or, our 
" senses and nerves are much more refined than 
" those of our neighbours. 

" We should not endure the (Edipus story, 
" nor 'Phaedra.' * Myrrha,' the best worked-up, 
" perhaps, of all Alfieri's tragedies, and a favour- 
" ite in Italy, would not be tolerated. ' The 
" Mysterious Mother' has never been acted, nor 
" Massinger's ' Brother and Sister.' Webster's 
" 'Duchess of Malfy' would be too harrowing: 
" her madness, the dungeon-scene, and her grim 
" talk with her keepers and coffin-bearers, could 
" not be borne : nor Lillo's ' Fatal Curiosity.' 
" The ' Cenci ' is equally horrible, though per- 
" haps the best tragedy modern times have pro- 
" duced. It is a play, — not a poem, like * Re- 
" morse' and * Fazio ;' and the best proof of its 



112 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" merit is, that people are continually quoting 
" it. What may not be expected from such a 
" beginning? 

" The Germans are colder and more phleg- 
" matic than we are, and bear even to see 
" Werner's play. 

" To write any thing to please, at the present 
" day, is the despair of authors." 

It was easy to be perceived that during this 
tirade against the stage and Shakspeare, he 
was smarting under the ill reception * Marino 
Faliero' had met with, and indignant at the 
critics, who had denied him the dramatic fa- 
culty. This, however, was not the only occa- 
sion of his abusing the old dramatists. 

Some days after I revived the subject of the 
drama, and led him into speaking of his own 
plays. 



LORD BYRON. 113 

*' I have just got a letter," said he, " from Mur- 
*' ray. What do you think he has enclosed me ? 
** A long dull extract from that long dull Latin 
" epic of Petrarch's, Africa, which he has the 
^^ modesty to ask me to translate for Ugo Fos- 
*' colo, who is writing some Memoirs of Petrarch, 
" which he has got Moore, Lady Dacre, &c. to 
*' contribute to. What am I to do with the 
*' death of Mago ? I wish to God, Medwin, you 
*' would take it home with you, and translate it ; 
*' and I will send it to Murray, We will say 
" nothing about its being yours, or mine ; and 
" it will be curious to hear Foscolo's opinion 
" upon it. Depend upon it, it will not be an 
" unfavourable one." 

In the course of the day I turned it into 
couplets, (and lame enough they were,) which 
he forwarded by the next courier to England. 

Almost by return of post arrived a fu- 
I 



114 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

riously complimentary epistle in acknowledg- 
ment, whicli made us laugh very heartily. 

" There are three good lines*," said Lord 

Byron, " in Mago's speech, which may be thus 

" translated : 

" Yet, thing of dust ! 

Man strives to climb the earth in his ambition, 

Till death, the monitor that flatters not, 

Points to the grave, where all his hopes are laid." 



" What do you think of Ada ?" said he, look- 
ing earnestly at his daughter's miniature, that 
hung by the side of his writing-table. " They 
" tell me she is like me — but she has her mo- 
" ther's eyes. 

" It is very odd that my mother was an only 
" child ; — I am an only child ; my wife is an 
" only child ; and Ada is an only child. It is a 
" singular coincidence ; that is the least that 



Ugo Foscolo afterwards took tlicni for his motto. 



LOKD BYRON. 115 

" can be said of it. I can't help thinking it was 
" destined to be so ; and perhaps it is best. I 
*' was once anxious for a son ; but, after our 
" separation, was glad to have had a daughter ; 
" for it would have distressed me too much to 
" have taken him away from Lady Byron, and 
" I could not have trusted her with a son's edu- 
" cation. I have no idea of boys being brought 
" up by mothers. I suffered too much from 
" that myself: and then, wandering about the 
" world as I do, I could not take proper care of 
" a child ; otherwise I should not have left 
" AUegra, poor little thing ! * at Ravenna. She 
" has been a great resource to me, though I am 
" not so fond of her as of Ada ; and yet I mean 
" to make their fortunes equal — there will be 
'' enough for them both. I have desired in my 
" will that Allegra shall not marry an English- 

* She appears to be the Leila of his Don Juan : 
" Poor little thing ! She was as fair as docile, 
,A^nd with that gentle, serious character 

Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 52. 
I 2 



116 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" man. The Irish and Scotch make better 
" husbands than we do. You will think it was 
" an odd fancy, but I was not in the best of 
** humours with my countrymen at that mo- 
" ment — you know the reason. I am told that 
*' Ada is a little termagant ; I hope not. I shall 
" write to my sister to know if this is the case : 
" perhaps I am wrong in letting Lady Byron 
" have entirely her own way in her education. 
" I hear that my name is not mentioned in her 
" presence ; that a green curtain is always kept 
" over my portrait, as over something forbidden ; 
" and that she is not to know that she has a 
" father, till she comes of age. Of course she 
" will be taught to hate me ; she will be brought 
" up to it. Lady Byron is conscious of all this, 
" and is afraid that I shall some day carry off 
" her daughter by stealth or force. I might 
" claim her of the Chancellor, without having re- 
" course to either one or the other. But I had 
" rather be unhappy myself, than make her mo- 
" ther so; probably I shall never see her again." 



LORD BYRON. 117 

Here he opened his writing-desk, and shewed 
me some hair, which he told me was his child's. 

During our drive and ride this evening he 
decUned our usual amusement of pistol-firing, 
without assigning a cause. He hardly spoke a 
word during the first half-hour, and it was evi- 
dent that something weighed heavily on his 
mind. There was a sacredness in his melancholy 
that I dared not interrupt. At length he said : 

" This is Ada's birthday, and might have 
" been the happiest day of my life : as it is, 

" ! " He stopped, seemingly ashamed 

of having betrayed his feelings. He tried in 
vain to rally his spirits by turning the conversa- 
tion ; but he created a laugh in which he could 
not join, and soon relapsed into his former re- 
verie. It lasted till we came within a mile of 
the Argine gate. There our silence was all at 
once interrupted by shrieks that seemed to pro- 
ceed from a cottage by^ the side of the road. We 



118 CONVERSATIONS OF 

pulled up our horses, to enquire of a contadiuo 
standing at the little garden-wicket. He told 
us that a widow had just lost her only child, 
and that the sounds proceeded from the wailings 
of some women over the corpse. Lord Byron 
was much affected ; and his superstition, acted 
upon by a sadness that seemed to be presenti- 
ment, led him to augur some disaster. 

*' I shall not be ha})py," said he, " till I hear 
" that my daughter is well. I have a great 
" horror of anniversaries : people only laugh at, 
" who have never kept a register of them. I 
" always write to my sister on Ada's birthday. 
" I did so last year ; and, what was very re- 
*' markable, my letter reached her on my wed- 
" ding-day, and her answer reached me at Ra- 
venna on my birth-day ! Several Actraordi- 
rj- things have happened to me on my birth- 
V y; so they did to Napoleon; and a more 
nderful circumstance still occurred to Marie 
.ntoinette.'' 



LORD BYRON. 119 

The next morning's courier brought him a 
letter from England. He gave it me as I 
entered, and said : 

"I was convinced something very unpleasant 
" hung over me last night : I expected to hear 
" that somebody I knew was dead ; — so it 
" turns out ! Poor Polidori is gone ! When 
" he was my physician, he was always talking 
" of Prussic acid, oil of amber, blowing into 
" veins, suffocating by charcoal, and compound- 
'* ing poisons ; but for a different purpose to 
" what the Pontic Monarch did, for he has pre- 
" scribed a dose for himself that would have 
" killed fifty Mithridates', — a dose whose effect, 
" Murray says, was so instantaneous that he 
" went off without a spasm or struggle. It 
" seems that disappointment was the cause of 
" this rash act. He had entertained too san- 
" guine hopes of literary fame, owing to the 
" success of his * Vampyre,' which, in conse- 
" quence of its ]}eing attributed to me, was got 



120 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" up as a melo-dranie at Paris. The founda- 
" tion of the story icas mine ; but I was forced 
" to disown tlie publication, lest the world 
" should suppose that I had vanity enough, or 
" was egotist enough, to write in that ridiculous 
" manner about myself* Notwithstanding 
" which, the French editions still persevere in 
" including it with my works. My real ' YsLva- 
" pyre' I gave at tlic end of ' Mazeppa,' some- 
" thing in the same way that I told it one 
" night at Diodati, when Monk Lewis, and 
" Shelley and his wife, were present. The 
" latter sketched on that occasion the outline 
" of her Pygmalion story, ' The Modern Pro- 
" metheus,' the making of a man, (which a lady 
" who had read it afterwards asked Sii' Hum- 
" phrey Davy, to his great astonishment, if he 
'' could do) ; Lewis told a story something like 

* He alliidt'd to the Preface and the Pt>stscript, con- 
taining accounts of his residence at Geneva and in the 
Isle of Mitylene. 



LOUD BYUON. 121 

" ' Alonzo and Imogene' ; and Shelley himself 
" (or ' The Snake,' as he used sometimes to call 
" him,) conjured up some frightful woman of 
" an acquaintance of his at home, a kind of 
" Medusa, who was suspected of having eyes in 
" her breasts. 

" Perhaps Polidori had strictly no right to 
" appropriate my story to himself; but it was 
" hardly worth it : and when my letter, dis- 
" claiming the narrative part, was written, I 
" dismissed the matter from my memory. It 
" was PoHdori's own fault that we did not 
" agree. I was sorry when we parted, for I 
" soon get attached to people ; and was more 
" sorry still for the scrape he afterwards got 
" into at Milan. He quarrelled with one of 
" the guards at the Scala, and was ordered to 
" leave the Lombard States twenty-four hours 
" after : which put an end to all his Conti- 
" nental schemes, that I had forwarded by re- 
" commending him to Lord ; and it is 



122 CONVERSATIONS OF 

** difficult for a young pliysician to get into 
" practice at home, however clever, particularly 
** a foreigner, or one with a foreigner's name. 
*• From that time, instead of making out pre- 
*• scriptions, he took to writing romances ; a 
" very unprofitable and fatal exchange, as it 
" turned out. 

" I told you I was not opjn-essed in spirits last 
" night without a reason. Who can help being 
" superstitious ? Scott l^elieves in second-sight. 
" Rousseau tried whether he was to be d — d or 
*' not, by aiming at a tree with a stone ; I for- 
" get whether he hit or missed. Goethe trust- 
" ed to the chance of a knife's striking the 
" water, to determine whether he was to pro- 
*' sper in some undertaking. The Italians think 
" the dropping of oil very unlucky. Pietro 
*• (Count GamJja) dropped some the night be- 
" fore his exile, and that of his family, from 
" Ravenna. Have you ever liad your fortune 



LORD BYROK. 123 

" told? Mrs. WiUiams told mine. She pre- 
" dieted that tv/enty-seven and thirty-seven 
" were to be dangerous ages in my life.^ One 
" has come true." 

" Yes," added I, " and did she not prophecy 
that you were to die a monk and a miser? I 
have been told so." 



" I don't think these two last very likely ; 
" but it was part of her prediction. But there 
" are lucky and unlucky days, as weU as years 

" and numbers too. Lord was dining at 

" a party, where — ■■ observed that they 

" were thirteen. ' Why don't you make us 
" twelve ?' was the reply ; and an impudent 
" one it was — but he could say those things. 
" You would not visit on a Friday, would you ? 



* He was married in his twenty-seventh, and died in 
his thirty-seventh year. 



124 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*' You know you are to introduce me to Mrs. 

" . It nuist not be to-morrow, for it is a 

" Friday." 



" A fine day," said I, as I entered ; " a day 
worth living for." 

" An old hag of a world ! " replied he, shaking 
me by the hand. " You should have been here 

" earher. T has been here with a most 

" portentous and obstetrical countenance, and it 
" seems he has been biinging forth an ode — a 
" birth-day ode — not on Ada, but on a lady. 
" An od'wurs production it nmst have been ! He 
" threatened to inflict, as Shelley calls it ; but I 
" fought off. As I told him, Stellas are out of 
" date now : it is a bad compliment to remind 
" women of their age. 

" Talking of days, this is the most wretched 
" day of my existence ; and I say and do all 



LORD BYRON. 125 

" sorts of foolish things* to drive away the me- 
" mory of it, and make me forget. 

" I will give you a specimen of some epigrams 
" I am in the habit of sending Hobhouse> to 
" whom I wrote on my first wedding-day, and 
" continue to write still : 

' This day of ours has surely done 

Its worst for me and you ! 
■'TIS now Jive years since we were one. 

And four since we were two."* 



* '' So that it wean me from the weary dream 
Of selfish grief, or gladness ! — so it fling 
Forgetfulness around me ! " 

Ckilde Harold, Canto III. Stanza 4. 

" And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 
'Tis that I may not weep ; — and if I weep, 

'Tis that our nature cannot always bring 

Itself to apathy" &c. 

Don Juan, Canto IV^ Stanza 4, 



12G CONVERSATIONS OF 

" And another on his sending me the congra- 
" tulations of the season, which ended in some 
" foolish way like this : 

" You may wish me returns of the season : 
Let us, prithee, have none of the day ! ' " 



I think I can give no stronger proof of the 
sociability of Lord Byron's disposition, than the 
festivity that presided over his dinners. 

Wednesday being one of his fixed days : 
" You will dine with me," said he, " though it 
" is the 2^ of January." 

His own table, when alone, was frugal, not 
to say abstemious* ; but on tlie occasion of 



* His dinner, when alone, cost five Pauls ; and thinking 
he was overcharged, he gave his bills to a lady of my ac- 



LORD BYRON. 127 

these meetings every sort of wine, every luxury 
of the season, and English delicacy, were display- 
ed. I never knew any man do the honours of 
his house with greater kindness and hospitality. 
On this eventful anniversary he was not, how- 
ever, in his usual spirits, and evidently tried to 
drown the remembrance of the day by a levity 
that was forced and unnatural ; — for it was clear, 
in spite of all his efforts, that something oppress- 
ed him, and he could not help continually re- 
curring to the subject. 

One of the party proposed Lady Byron's 
health, which he gave with evident pleasure, and 



quaintance to examine t. At a Christmas- day dinner he 
had ordered a plum-pudding a I'Anglaise. Somebody 
afterwards told him it was not good. " Not good ! " said 
lie^: " why, it ought to be good ; it cost fifteen Pauls." 



t He ordered the remnants to be given away, lest his 
servants (as he said) should envy him every mouthful he 
ate. 



128 CONVERSATIONS OF 

we all drank it in bumpers. The conversation 
turning on his separation, the probability of 
their being reconciled was canvassed. 

" What ! " said he, " after having lost the five 
" best years of our lives ? — Never ! But,' added 
he, " it was no fault of mine tliat we quarrelled : 
** I have made advances enough. I had once an 
" idea that i)eople are ha})piest in the marriage 
** state, after the impetuosity of the passions has 
'* subsided, — but that hope is all over with me ! " 

Writing to a friend the day after our pai-ty, I 
finished my letter with the following remark : 

*' Notwithstanding the tone of raillery with 
which he sometimes speaks in *Don Juan' of 
his separation from Lady Byron, and his saying, 
as he did to-day, that the only thing he thanks 
Lady Byron for is, that he cannot marry, &c., 
it is evident that it is the thorn in his side — tlie 
poison in his cup of life ! The veil is easily seen 



LORD BYRON. 129 

through. He endeavours to mask his griefs, 
and to fill up the void of his heart, by assuming 
a gaiety that does not belong to it. All the ten- 
der and endearing ties of social and domestic 
life rudely torn asunder, he has been wandering 
on from place to place, without finding any to 
rest in, Switzerland, Venice, Ravenna, and I 
might even have added Tuscany, were doomed 
to be no asylum for him," &c. 



I observed himself and aU his servants in 
deep mourning. He did not wait for me to en- 
quire the cause. 

" I have just heard," said he, " of Lady Noel's 
" death. I am distressed for poor Lady Byron ! 
" She must be in great affliction, for she adored 
" her mother ! The world wiU think I am 
" pleased at this event, but they are much 
*' mistaken. I never wished for an accession 
" of fortune ; I have enough without the Went- 

K 



130 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

" worth property. I liave written a letter of con- 
" dolence to Lady Byron, — you may suppose 
" in the kindest terms, — beginning, ' My dear 
" Lady Byron.' 

" If we are not reconciled, it is not my 
"fault!" 

" I shall be delighted," I said, " to see you 
restored to her and to your country ; w hich, not- 
withstanding all you say and write against it, I 
am sure you like. Do you remember a senti- 
ment in * The Two Foscari ?' 

' He who loves not his country, can love nothing.'' 

" I am becoming more weaned from it every 
" day," said he after a pause, ** and liave had 
" enough to wean me from it ! — No ! Lady By- 
" ron will not make it up with mc now, lest the 
" world should say that her mother only was to 
" blame ! Lady Noel certainly identifies herself 
" very strongly in the quarrel, even by the ac- 



LORD BYllON. 



131 



" count of her last injunctions ; for she directs 
" in her will that my portrait, shut up in a case 
" by her orders, shall not be opened till her 
" grand-daughter be of age, and then not given 
" to her if Lady Byron should be alive. 

" I might have claimed all the fortune for 
" my life, if I had chosen to have done so ; but 
" have agreed to leave the division of it to Lord 
" Dacre and Sir Francis Burdett. The whole 
" management of the affair is confided to them ; 
" and I shall not interfere, or make any sugges- 
" tion or objection, if they award Lady Byron 
" the whole." 

I asked him how he became entitled ? 

" The late Lord Wentworth," said he, " be- 

" queathed a Ufe-interest in his Lancashire 

" estates to Lady Byron's mother, and after- 

" wards to her daughter : that is the way I 

'' claim." 

K 2 



132 CONVERSATIONS OF 

Some time after, when the equal })artition had 
been settled, he said : 

" I have offered Lady Byron the family man- 
" sion in addition to tlie award, but she has de- 
'' rlined it : tliis is not kind." 



i The conversation turned after dinner on the 
lyrical poetry of the day, and a question arose 
as to which was the most perfect ode that 
liad l)een produced. Shelley contended for 
Coleridge's on Switzerland, beginning, " Ye 
clouds," &c. : others named some of Moore's 
Irish Melodies, and Campbell's Hohenlinden ; 
and, had Lord Byron not been present, liis own 
Invocation in Manfred, or Ode to Napoleon, or 
on Prometheus, might have been cited. 

*' Like Gray," said he, " Campbell smells too 
" nmch of the oil : he is never satisfied with 
'• what he does ; his finest things have been 



LORD BYRON. 133 

" Spoiled by over-polish — the sharpness of the 
" outline is worn off. Like paintings, poems 
** may be too highly finished. The great art is 
" effect, no matter how produced. 

" I will shew you an ode you have never seen, 
" that I consider little inferior to the best which 
" the present prolific age has brought forth." 
With this he left the table, almost before the 
cloth was removed, and returned with a maga- 
zine, from which he read the following lines on 
Sir John Moore's burial, which perhaps require 
no apology for finding a place here : 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

We buried him darkly at dead of night. 
The sods with our bayonets turning,-— 

By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 
And the lantern diraly burning. 



134 CON VEllSAT IONS Ol" 

No useless coffin confined his breast, 

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest. 
With his martial cloak around him. 

Few and short were the ])rayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow: 
But we stedfastly gazed on the face that was dead, 

xVnd we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed. 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow. 
That the foe and the stranger would tread o''er his head. 

And we far away on the billow I 

Lightly they '11 talk of the spirit that 's gone. 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
But nothing he '11 reck, if they let him sleep on 

In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 

But half of our lieavy task was done, 

When the clock told the hour for retiring ; 

And we heard the thstant and random gun 
Of the enemy sullenly firing. 



LORD BYRON, 135 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down. 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; 

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, 
But we left him alone with his glory. 

The feeling with which he recited these ad- 
mirable stanzas, I shall never forget. After he 
had come to an end, he repeated the third, and 
said it was perfect, particularly the lines 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest. 
With his martial cloak around him. 

" I should have taken," said Shelley, " the 
whole for a rough sketch of Campbell's. 

" No," replied Lord Byron : '' Campbell would 
" have claimed it, if it had been his." 

I afterwards had reason to think that the ode 
was Lord Byron's ; that he was piqued at none 
of his own being mentioned ; and, after he had 
praised the verses so highly, could not own 



136 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

them.* No other reason can be assigned for 
his not acknowledging himself the aiithoi', par- 
ticularly as he was a great admirer of General 
Moore. 



Talking after dinner of swimming, he said: — 

" Mm'ray published a letter I wrote to him 
** fi'om Venice, which might have seemed an 
" idle display of vanity ; but the object of my 
" writing it, was to contradict what Turner had 
" asserted about the impossibility of crossing 
" the Hellespont from the Abydos to the Sestos 
" side, in consequence of the tide. 

" One is as easy as the other ; we did both." 
Here he tunied round to Fletcher, to whom 
he occasionally referred, and said, "Fletcher, 



* This conjecture seems to be erroneous. It appears 
the ode is the production of the kite Kfv. Wolfe. 



LORD BYRON. . 137 

" how far was it Mr. Ekenhead and I swam ?" 
Fletcher replied, " Three miles and a half, my 
Lord." (Of course he did not diminish the dis- 
tance.) " The real width of the Hellespont," 
resumed Lord Byron, " is not much above a 
" mile ; but the current is prodigiously strong, 
" and we were carried down notwithstanding all 
" our efforts. I don't know how Leander con- 
" trived to stem the stream, and steer straight 
" across ; but nothing is impossible in love or 
" religion. If I had had a Hero on the other 
" side, perhaps I should have worked harder. 
" We were to have undertaken this feat some 
" time before, but put it off in consequence of 
" the coldness of the water ; and it was chilly 
" enough when we performed it. I know I 
" should have made a bad Leander, for it gave 
" me an ague that I did not so easily get rid of. 
" There were some sailors in the fleet who swam 
" further than I did — I do not say than I could 
" have done, for it is the only exercise I pride 
" myself upon, being almost amphibious. 



138 CONVElllSATKJNS OF 

'• I reineinber being at Brighton, many years 
'• ago, and having great (hfficulty in making the 
** land, — the wind blowing off the shore, and 
*• the tide setting out. Cro\\cls of people were 

" colleeted on the beaeh to see us. JMr. 

" (I think he said Hobhouse) was with me ; 
" and," he added, " I had great difficulty in 
" saving him — he nearly drowned me. 

" AVhen I was at Venice, there was an Ita- 
" lian who knew no more of swimming than a 
" camel, but he had heard of my })rowess in the 
" Dardanelles, and challenged me. A^ot wish- 
" ing that any foreigner at least should beat me 
" at my own arms, I consented to engage in the 
" contest. Alexander Scott proposed to be of 
" the party, and we started from Lido. Our 
" land-lul)ber was very soon in the rear, and 
" Scott saw hhn make for a gondola. He rested 
" himself first against one, and then against 
*' another, and gave in Ik? fore we got half way 
*' to St. Mai'k's Place. We saw no more of 



LORD BYRON. 139 

" him, but continued our course through the 
" Grand Canal, landing at my palace-stairs. 
" The water of the Lagunes is dull, and not 
" very clear or agreeable to bathe in. I can 
" keep myself up for hours in the sea : I delight 
" in it, and come out with a buoyancy of spirits 
" I never feel on any other occasion. 

" If I believed in the transmigration of your 
" Hindoos, I should think I had been a Merman 
" in some former state of existence, or was going 
" to be turned into one in the next." 



" When I published 'Marino FaUero' I had 
" not the most distant view to the stage. My 
" object in choosing that historical subject was 
" to record one of the most remarkable incidents 
" in the annals of the Venetian Republic, embo- 
" dying it in what I considered the most inte- 
" resting form — dialogue, and giving my work 
" the accompaniments of scenery and manners 



140 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

" studied on the spot. That Faliero should, for 
" a slight to a woman, become a traitor to his 
" country, and conspire to massacre all his fel- 
" low-nobles, and that the young Foscari should 
" have a sickly affection for his native city, 
*• were no inventions of mine. I painted the 
" men as I found them, as they were, — not as 
" the critics would have them. I took the sto- 
" ries as they were handed down ; and if human 
" nature is not the same in one country as it is 
" in others, am I to blame ? — can I help it ? 
" But no painting, however highly coloured, can 
" give an idea of the intensity of a Venetian's 
*• affection for his native city. Shelley, I 
" remember, draws a very beautiful picture of 
" the tranquil pleasures of Venice in a poem* 



* The lines to which Lord Byron referred are these: 
'^ If I had been an unconnected man, 
I from this moment should have form'd the plan 
Never to leave fair Venice — for to me 
It was delight to ride by the lone sea ; 



LOUD BYUON. 141 

" which he has not published, and in which he 
" does not make me cut a good figure. It de- 
" scribes an evening we passed together. 

" There was one mistake I committed : I 
" should have called * Marino Fahero ' and ' The 
" Two Foscari' dramas, historic poems, or any 
" thing, in short, but tragedies or plays. In the 
" first place, I was ill-used in the extreme by 
" the Doge being brought on the stage at all, 
" after my Preface. Then it consists of 3500 



And then the town is silent — one may write 
Or read in gondolas by day or night. 
Having the little brazen lamp alight^ 
Unseen, uninterrupted : books are there. 
Pictures, and casts from all those statues fair 
Which were twin-born with poetry, — and all 
We seek in towns, with little to recall 
Regrets for the green country. I might sit 
In Maddalo's great palace," &c. 

Julian and Maddalo. 



142 LONVKJISATIONS OF 

" lilies : * a good acting play should not exceed 
" 1500 or 1800; and, conformably with my 
" plan, the materials could not have been com- 
*' pressed into so confined a space. 

" I remember Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd 
" telling me, many years ago, that I should 
" never be able to condense my powers of 
" writing sufficiently for the stage, and that the 
" fault of all my plays would be their being too 
" long for acting. The remark occurred to me 
" when I was about * Marino FaHero ;' but I 
" thought it unnecessary to try and contradict 
" his prediction, as I did not study stage-effect, 
" and meant it solely for the closet. So much 
" was I averse from its being acted, that, the 
" moment I heard of the intention of the 
" Managers, I applied for an injunction ; but 



* He gave me the copy, witli tlie nunil)er of linos 
marked witli his own pencil. I have loft it in En<x]nn(l. 



LORD BYRON. 143 

" the Chancellor refused to interfere, or issue 
^ an order for suspending the representation. 
" It was a question of property, of great im- 
" portance in the literary world. He would 
" neither protect me nor Murray. But the 
" manner in which it was got up was 
" shameful !* AU the declamatory parts were 
" left, all the dramatic ones struck out ; and 
" Cooper, the new actor, was the murderer of 
" the whole. Lioni's soliloquy, which I wrote 
** one moonlight night after coming from the 
" Benzons', ought to have been omitted alto- 
" gether, or at all events much curtailed. 
" What audience will listen with any patience 
" to a mere tirade of poetry, which stops the 
" march of the actor ? No wonder, then, that 
" the unhappy Doge should have been damned ! 
" But it was no pleasant news to me ; and the 
" letter containing it was accompanied by ano- 



* Acted at Drury Lane, April 25, 182L 



144 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" ther, to inform me that an old lady, from 
" whom I had great expectations, was likely to 
" live to an hundred. There is an autumnal 
" shoot in some old people, as in trees ; and I 
" fancy her constitution has got some of the 
" new sap. Well, on these two pleasant pieces 
" of intelligence I wrote the following epigram, 
" or elegy it may termed, from the melancholy 
" nature of the suhject : — 

Beliold the blessings of a happy lot ! 

My play is damn'd, and Lady not ! 

" I understand that Louis Dix-luiit, or de< 
" huitres, as Moore spells it, has made a Irciduc- 
" tmi of poor ' Faliero ;' but I should hope it 
*' will not be attempted on the Thtatre Francois. 
" It is quite enough for a man to be damned once. 
" I was satisfied with Jeffrey's critique* gn the 

* " However, I forgive him ; and I trust 

He will forgive himself : — if not, I nuist. 

01 a 



LORD BYRON. 145 

" play, for it abounded in extracts. He was 
"^^ welcome to his own opinion, — which was 
^' fairly stated. His summing up in favour of 
" my friend Sir Walter amused me : it remind- 
" ed me of a schoolmaster, who, after flogging 
""' a bad boy, calls out the head of the class, 
^' and, patting him on the head, gives him all 
** the sugar-plums. 

*' The common trick of Reviewers is, when 
*' they want to depreciate a work, to give 
" no quotations from it. This is what ' The 
" Quarterly' shines in ; — the way Milman put 
*' down Shelley, when he compared him to 
" Pharaoh, and his works to his chariot-wheels, 
*' by what contortion of images I forget; — but 
*' it reminds me of another person's comparing 
" me in a poem to Jesus Christ, and telling me. 

Old enemies who have become new friends. 
Should so continue ; — 'tis a point of honour." 

Don Juan, Canto X. Stanzas 11 and 12. 
L 



14G C UNVEK6AT10NS OF 

*• when I objected to its profanity, that he 
" alluded to me in situation, not in person ! 
" ' What !' said I in reply, " would you have 
" me crucified ? We are not in Jenisalem, 
" are we ?' But this is a long parenthesis. 
" The Reviewers are like a counsellor, after 
" an abusive speech, calling no witnesses to 
*' prove his assertions. 

" There are people who read nothing but 
" these trimestrials, and swear by the ipse 
" dixit of these autocrats — these Actaeon hunt- 
" ers of literature. They are fond of raising 
" up and throwing down idols. * The Edin- 
*' burgh' did so with Walter Scott's poetry, 
" and, — — perhaps there is no merit in my 
" plays ? It may be so ; and Milman may be 
" a great poet, if Heber is right and I am 
" wrong. He has the dramatic facidty, and I 
" have not. So they pretended to say of 
" Milton. I am too happy in being coupled 
"in any way with Milton, and shall be glad 



LOJID BYRON. 147 

" if they find any points of comparison between 
" him and me. 

" But the praise or blame of Reviewers does 
" not last long now-a-days. It is like straw 
" thrown up in the air. * 

" I hope, notwithstanding all that has been 
" said, to write eight more plays this year, and 
" to live long enough to rival Lope de Vega, or 
" Calderon, I have two subjects that I think 
*Vof writing on, — Miss Lee's German tale 
** * Kruitzner,' and Pausanias. 

" What do you think of Pausanias ? The 
" unities can be strictly preserved, almost with- 
** out deviating from history. The temple 

* He seemed to think somewhat differently afterwards;, 
when, after the review in ' The Quarterly' of his plays, 
he wrote to me^ saying, '^ 1 am the most unpopular writer 

l2 



148 CONVERSATIONS OF 

** where he took refuge, and from whose sane- 
" tuary he was forced without profaning it, will 
" furnish complete unities of time and place. 

" No event in ancient times ever struck me 
" as more noble and dramatic than the death of 
*' Demosthenes. You remember his last words 
" to Archias ? — But subjects are not wanting." 

I told Lord Byron, that I had had a letter 
from Procter*, and that he had been jeered on 
* The Duke of Mirandola' not having been in- 
cluded in his (Lord B.'s) enumeration of the 
dramatic pieces of the day ; and that he had 
added, he had been at HaiTow with him. 

" Ay," said Lord Byron, " I remember the 
" name : he was in the lower school, in such a 
" class. They stood Farrer, Procter, Jocelyn. ' 



* Barry Cornwall. 



LORD BYRON. 149 

I have no doubt Lord Byron could have 
gone through all the names, such was his me- 
mory. He immediately sat down, and very 
good-naturedly gave me the folio Aving note to 
send to Barry Cornwall, which shews that the 
arguments of the Reviewers had not changed 
his Unitarian opinions, (as he called them) : 

" Had I been aware of your tragedy when I 
" wrote my note to ' Marino Faliero,' although 
" it is a matter of no consequence to you, I 
" should certainly not have omitted to insert 
" your name with those of the other writers 
" who still do honour to the drama. 

" My own notions on the subject altogether 
" are so different from the popular ideas of the 
" day, that we differ essentially, as indeed I do 
" from our whole English literati, upon that 
" topic. But I do not contend that I am right 
'* — I merely say that such is my opinion ; and 
" as it is a solitary one, it can do no great 



150 CONVEKSATlONJi OF 

" hann. But it docs not prevent iiie I'loiii 
" doing justice to the powers of those who 
" adopt a different system." 



I introduced the subject of Cain : — 

" When I was a boj," said he, " I studied 
" German, which I have now entirely forgotten. 
" It was very little I ever knew of it. Abel 
" was one of the first books my German master 
" read to me ; and whilst he was crying his 
" eyes out over its pages, I thouglit that any 
" other than Cain had hardly committed a 
" crime in ridding the world of so dull a fellow 
"" as Gessner made brother Abel. 

" I always thought Cain a fine subject, and 
" when I took it up I determined to treat it 
** strictly after the Mosaic account. I there- 
" fore made the snake a snake, and took a 
" Bishop for my interpreter. 



LOED BYRON. 151 

" I had once an idea of following the Armi- 
" nian Scriptures, and making Cain's crime 
" proceed from jealousy, and love of his uterine 
*' sister ; but, though a more probable cause of 
" dispute, I abandoned it as unorthodox. 

" One mistake crept in, — ^AbeFs should have 
" been made the first sacrifice : and it is sin- 
" gular that the first form of religious worship 
" should have induced the first murder. 

" Hobhouse has denounced ' Cain ' as irre- 
*• ligious, and has penned me a most furious 
" epistle, urging me not to publish it, as I value 
" my reputation or his friendship. He contends 
" that it is a work I should not have ventured 
" to put my name to in the days of Pope, 
" Churchill, and Johnson, (a curious trio !) Hob- 
" house used to write good verses once himself, 
«* but he seems to have forgotten what poetry is 
" in others, when he says my * Cain' reminds him 
'* of the worst bombast of Dry den V. Shelley, 



152 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" who is no bad judge of the compositions o 
" others, however he may fail in procuring suc- 
" cess for his own, is most sensitive and indig- 
" nant at this critique, and says (what is not the 
" case) that * Cain ' is the finest thing I ever 
" wrote, calls it worthy of Milton, and hacks it 
'' against Hobhouse's poetical Trinity. 

" The Snakes rage has prevented my crest 
*' from rising. I shall write Hobhouse a very 
" unimpassioned letter, but a firm one. The 
" pul)lication shall go on, whether Murray 
" refuses to print it or not. 

" I have just got a letter, and an admirable 
** one it is, from Sir A\^altcr Scott, to whom I 
" dedicated * Cain.' The sight of one of his 
" letters always does me good. I hardly know 
" what to make of all the contradictory opinions 
" that have been sent me this week. Moore 
" says, that more people are shocked with the 
" blasphemy of the sentiments, than delighted 



LORD BYRON. 153 

" with the beauty of the lines. Another person 
"thinks the Devil's arguments irresistible, or 

" irrefutable. says that the Liberals like 

" it, but that the Ultraists are making a ter- 
" rible outcry ; and that the ke and him not 
" being in capitals, in full dress uniform, 
" shocks the High-church and Court party. 
'* Some call me an Atheist; others a Manichaean, 
" — a very bad and a hard-sounding name, that 
" shocks the illiterati the more because they 
" don't knovi^ what it means. I am taxed with 
" having made my drama a peg to hang on it a 
" long, and some say tiresome, dissertation on 
" the principle of Evil ; and, what is worse, 
" with having given Lucifer the best of the ar- 
" gument ; all of which I am accused of taking 
" from Voltaire. 

*' I could not make Lucifer expound the 
" Thirty-nine Articles, nor talk as the Divines 
" do : that would never have suited his purpose, 
" — nor, one would think, theirs. They ought 



154 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*' to be grateful to him for giving them a subject 
" to write about. What would they do without 
*' evil in the Prince of Evil ? Othello's occu- 
" pation would be gone. I have made Lucifer 
" say no more in his defence than was absolute- 
*' ly necessary, — not half so much as Milton 
" makes his Satan do. I was forced to keep up 
" his dramatic character. Au reste, I have ad- 
" hered closely to the Old Testament, and I defy 
" any one to question my moral. 

" Johnson, who would have been glad of an 
" opportunity of throwing another stone at 
" Milton, redeems him from any censure for 
" putting impiety and even blasphemy into the 
" mouths of his infernal spirits. By what rule, 
" then, am I to have all the blame ? AVliat 
" would the Methodists at home say to Goethe's 
" * Faust' ? His devil not only talks very fami- 
'' liarly of Heaven, but very familiarly in Heaven. 
" What would they think of the colloquies of 
" Mephistopheles and his pupil, or the more 



LOUD BYRON. 155 

" daring language of the prologue, which no 
" one will ever venture to translate ? And yet 
" this play is not only tolerated and admired, as 
" every thing he wrote must be, but acted, in 
" Germany. And are the Germans a less rao- 
" ral people than we are ? I doubt it much, 
" Faust itself is not so fine a subject as Cain. 
" It is a grand mystery. The mark that was 
" put upon Cain is a sublime and shadowy act : 
" Goethe would have made more of it than I 
^* have done*." 

* On Mr. Murray being threatened with a prosecution^ 
Lord Byron begged me to copy the following letter for 
him: — 

" Attacks upon me were to be expected ; but I perceive 
one upon you in the papers which, I confess, I did not 
expect. 

" How and in what manner you can be considered re- 
sponsible for what I publish, I am at a loss to conceive. 
If '^Cain' be blasphemous, '^ Paradise Lost' is blasphe- 
mous ; and the words of the Oxford gentleman, ' Evil, 
be thou my good!' are from that very poem, from the 



156 CONVERSATIONS OF 

I cannot resist presenting the public witli a 
drinking-song composed one morning — or pei- 
haps evening, after one of our dinners. 

Fill the goblet again, for I never before 

Felt the glow that now gladdens my heart to its core : 

Let us drink — who would not ? since, thro' life's varied 

round, 
In the goblet alone no deception is found. 



mouth of vSatan, — and is there any thing more in that of 
Lucifer, in the Mystery ? ' Cain' is nothing more than 
a drama, not a piece of argument. If Lucifer and Cain 
speak as the first rebel and the first murderer may be 
supposed to speak, nearly all the rest of the personages 
talk also according to their characters; and the stronger 
passions have ever been permitted to the drama. I have 
avoided introducing the Deity, as in Scripture, though 
IMilton does, and not very wisely either ; but have adopted 
his angel as sent to Cain instead, on ])urpose to avoid shock- 
ing any feelings on the subject, by falling short of what all 
uninspired men must fall short in, — viz. giving an ade- 
quate notion of the effect of the presence of Jehovah. 
The old Mysteries introduced Him liberally enough, and 
all this I avoided in the new one. 



LOUD BYRON. 157 

I have tried in its turn all that life can supply ; 

I have bask'd in the beams of a dark rolling eye ; 

I have loved — who has not ? but what tongue will declare 

That pleasure existed while passion was there ? 

^' The attempt to bully you because they think it will 
not succeed with me, seems as atrocious an attempt as 
ever disgraced the times. What ! when Gibbon's;, Hume's, 
Priestley's, and Drummond's publishers have been allowed 
to rest in peace for seventy years, are you to be singled 
out for a work of fiction, not of history or argument ? 

" There must be something at the bottom of this — some 
private enemy of your own; it is otherwise incredible. 
I can only say, ' Me, me, adsum qui feci f that any pro- 
ceedings against you may, I beg, be transferred to me, 
who am willing and ought to endure them all; that if 
you have lost money by the publication, I will refund 
any or all of the copyright : that I desire you will say, 
that both you and Mr. Gifford remonstrated against the 
publication, and also Mr. Hobhouse; that I alone occa- 
sioned it, and I alone am the person who, either legally 
OT otherwise, should bear the burthen. 

" If they prosecute, I will come to England ; that is, 
if by meeting in my own person I can save yours. Let 
me know. You shan't suffer for me, if I can help it. 
Make any use of this letter you please." 



158 CONVERSATIONS UI 

In the days of our youth, when tlie heart 's in its spring, 
And dreams that affection can never take wing, 
I had friends — who has not ? but what tongue will avo^v 
That friends, rosy wine, are so faithful as thou ? 

The breast of a mistress some boy may estrange ; 

Friendship shifts with the sun-beam, — thou never canst 
change. 

Thou grow'st old — who does not? but on earth what ap- 
pears. 

Whose virtues, like thine, but increase with our years r 

Yet if blest to the utmost that love can bestow, 
Should a rival bow down to our idol below. 
We are jealous — who 's not ? than hast no such alloy, 
For the more that enjoy thee, the more they enjoy. 

When, the season of youtli and its jollities past. 
For refuge we fly to the goblet at last. 
Then we find — who does not ? in the flow of the soul, 
That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl. 

When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth. 
And Memory's triumph commenced over Mirth, 
Hope was left — was she not ? but the goblet ivc kiss, 
And care not for hope, who are certain of bliss. 



LORD BYUONc 159 

Long life to the grape ! and when summer is flown. 
The age of our nectar shall gladden my own. 
We must die — who does not ? may our sins be forgiven ! 
And Hebe shall never be idle in Heaven. 



Dining with him another day, the subject of 
private theatricals was introduced. 

" I am very fond of a private theatre/' said 
he. ** I remember myself and some friends at 
" Cambridge getting up a play ; and that re- 
" minds me of a thing which happened, that 
" was very provoking in itself, but very hu- 
" morous in its consequences. 

" On the day of representation, one of the 
" performers took it into his head to make an 
" excuse, and his part was obhged to be read. 
" Hobhouse came forward to apologize to the 

'^ audience, and told them that a Mr. had 

" declined to perform his part, &c. The gen- 
" tleman was highly indignant at the ' aj and 



160 CONVERSATIONS OT 

" had a great inclination to pick a quarrel with 
" Scrope Davies, who replied, that he siip- 

" posed Mr. wanted to be called the Mr. 

" so and so. He ever after went by the name 
" of the ' Definite Article: 

" After this preface, to be less indefinite, siip- 
" pose w^e were to get up a })lay. My hall, 
" which is the largest in Tuscany, would make 
" a capital theatre ; and we may send to Flo- 
" rence for an audience, if we cannot fill it 
" here. And as to decorations, nothing is easier 
" in any part of Italy than to get them : besides 
" that, Williams will assist us." 

It was accordingly agreed that we should 
commence j^vith " Othello." Lord Byron was 
to be lago. Orders were to be given for the 
fitting up of the stage, preparing tlie dresses, 
&c., and rehearsals of a few scenes took place. 
Perhaps Lord Byron would have made the finest 
actor in the world. His voice had a flexibility. 



LORD BYRON. 161 

a variety in its tones, a power and pathos be- 
yond any I ever heard; and his countenance 
was capable of expressing the tenderest, as well 
as the strongest emotions. I shall never for- 
get his reading lago's part in the handkerchief- 
scene. 

" Shakspeare was right," said he, after he had 
finished, " in making Othello's jealousy turn 
" upon that circumstance.* The handkerchief 
" is the strongest proof of love, not only among 
" the Moors, but all Eastern nations : and yet 
" they say that the plot of ' Marino Faliero' 
" hangs upon too slight a cause." 



* Calderon says, in the Cisma de V Inglaterra, (I have 
not the original,) 

" She gave me, too, a handkerchief, — a spell — 
A flattering pledge, my hopes to animate — 
An astrologic favour — fatal prize. 
That told too true what tears must weep these eyes ! " 
M 



162 CONVERSATIONS OF 

All at once a difficulty arose about a Desdc- 
mona, and the Guiccioli put her ^^eto on oui 
theatricals. The influence of the Countess over 
Lord Byron reminded me of a remark of 
Fletcher's, that Shelley once repeated to me as 
having overheard : " That it was strange every 
woman should be able to manage his Lord- 
ship, but her Ladyship !" 



Discussing the different actors of the day, he 
said : 

" Dowton, who hated Kean, used to say that 
" his Othello reminded him of Obi, or Three- 
" fingered Jack,^ — not Othello. But, whatever 
" his Othello might have been, Garrick himself 
" never surpassed him in lago. I am told that 
" Kean is not so great a favourite with the pub- 
" lie since his return from America, and that 
*' party strengthened against him in his absence. 
" I o/fc.ss lie could not have staid long enough 



LORD BYHON. 163 

" to be spoiled ; though I calculate no actor is 
" improved by their stage. How do you 
" reckon? 

" Kean began by acting Richard the Third 
" when quite a boy, and gave all the promise 
" of what he afterwards became. His Sir Giles 
" Overreach was a wonderful performance. The 
" actresses were afraid of him; and he was 
" afterwards so much exhausted himself, that 
" he fell into fits. This, I am told, was the 
« case with Miss O'Neill* 

" Kemble did much towards the reform of 
" our stage. Classical costume was almost un- 
" known before he undertook to revise the 
" dresses, Garrick used to act Othello in a red 
" coat and epaulettes, and other characters had 
" prescriptive habits equally ridiculous. I can 
" conceive nothing equal to Kemble's Coriola- 

* And he might have added Pasta. 

m2 



164 CONVERSATIONS OF 

** nils ; and he looked the Roman so well, that 
" even ' Cato,' cold and stiltish as it is, had a loin. 
" That shews what an actor can do for a play ! 
" If he had acted * Marino Faliero,' its fate 
" would have been very different. 

" Kemble pronounced several words affect- 
" edly, which should be cautiously avoided on 
" the stage. It is nothing that Campbell writes 
" it Sepulcrh in * Hohenlinden.' The Greek 
" derivation is much against his pronunciation 
" of ache.' 

He now began to mimic Kemble's voice and 
manner of spouting, and imitated him inimi- 
tably in Prospero's lines : 

' ' Yea, the great globe itself, 



And all which it inherit, shall dissolve. 
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
Leave not a rack behind !' 

" AVhen half seas over, Kemble used to speak 
in blank-verse: and with practice, I don't 



LORD BYRON. 165 

*' think it would be difficult. Good prose re- 
" solves itself into blank-verse. Why should 
" we not be able to improvise in hexameters, as 
" well as the Italians ? Theodore Hook is an 
" improvisatore." 

" The greatest genius in that way that per- 
haps Italy ever produced," said Shelley, "is 
Sgricci." 

" There is a great deal of knack in these 
" gentry," replied Lord Byron ; " their poetry 
" is more mechanical than you suppose. More 
" verses are written yearly in Italy, than mil- 
" lions of money are circulated. It is usual for 
" every Italian gentleman to make sonnets to 
" his mistress's eyebrow before he is mar- 
" ried, — or the lady must be very uninspiring 
" indeed. 

" But Sgricci ! To extemporize a whole tra- 
" gedy seems a miraculous gift." 



166 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" I heard him improvise a five-act play at 
Lucca," said Shelley, " on the subject of the 
* Iphigenia in Tauris,' and never was more in- 
terested. He put one of the finest speeches into 
the mouth of Iphigenia I ever heard. She com- 
pared her brother Orestes to tlie sole remain- 
ing pillar on which a temple hung tottering, 
in the act of ruin. The idea, it is true, is 
from Euripides, but he made it his own." 

" I have never read his play since I w^as at 
" school," replied Lord Eyron. " I don't know 
" how Sgricci's tragedies may appear in print, 
" but his printed poetry is tame stuff. 

" The inspiration of the improviser is quite a 
" separate talent : — a consciousness of his own 
" powers, his own elocution — the wondering 
" and ap])lauding audience, — all conspire to give 
" him confidence ; but the deity forsakes him 
" when he coldly sits down to think. Sgricci is 
" not only a fine poet, but a fine actor. Mrs. 



LORD BYRON. 167 

" Siddons," continued Lord Byron, " was the 
" beau ideal of acting ; Miss O'Neill I would not 
" go to see, for fear of weakening the impres- 
" sion made by the queen of tragedians. When 
" I read Lady Macbeth's part, I have Mrs. 
" Siddons before me, and imagination even 
" supplies her voice, whose tones were super- 
" human, and power over the heart superna- 
" tural. 

" It is pleasant enough sometimes to take a 
" peep behind, as well as to look before the 



" I remember one leg of an elephant saying 
" to another, * D— n your eyes, move a little 
" quicker !' and overhearing at the Opera two 
" people in love, who were so distralts that they 
" made the responses between the intervals of 
" the recitative, instead of during the recitative 
" itself. One said to the other, ' Do you love 

me ?' then came the flourish of music, and the 



168 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" reply sweeter than the riiiisic, ' Can you 
"doubt it?' " 



" I have just been reading Lamb's Specimens," 
said he, " and am surprised to find in the ex- 
" tracts fi'om the old dramatists so many ideas 
'' that I thought exclusively my own. Here is 
" a passage, for instance, from * The Duchess 
" of Malfy,' astonishingly like one in * Don 
" Juan.' 

" * The leprosy of lusV I discover, too, is not 
" mine. * Thou tremblest,' — * 'Tis with age 
** then,' which I am accused of borrowing from 
" Otway, was taken from the Old Bailey pro- 
" ceedings. Some judge observed to the wit- 
" ness, ' Thou tremblest ;' — * 'Tis with cold then,' 
" was the reply. 

" These Specimens of Lamb's I never saw 
" till to-day, I am taxed WTth being a plagia- 



LORD BYROK. 169 

" rist, when I am least conscious of being one ; 
" but I am not very scrupulous, I own, when I 
'' have a good idea, how I came into possession 
" of it. How can we tell to what extent Shak- 
" speare is indebted to his contemporaries, 
" whose works are now lost ? Besides which, 
" Gibber adapted his plays to the stage. 

" The invocation of the witches was, we 
" know, a servile plagiarism from Middleton. 
" Authors were not so squeamish about bor- 
" rowing from one another in those days. If it 
"be a fault, I do not pretend to be immacu- 
" late. I will lend you some volumes of Ship- 
" wrecks, from which my storm in ' Don Juan' 
" came." 

" Lend me also ' Casti's Novelle,' " said I. 
•* Did you never see in ItaHan, — 

' Round her she makes an atmosphere of Hght ; 
The very air seem'd hghter from her eyes' ? " 



170 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

" The Germans,'' said he, " aud I believe 
" Goethe himself, consider that I have taken 
'• great liberties with ' Faust.' All I know of 
" that dram.a is from a sorry French translation, 
" from an occasional reading or two into English 
" of parts of it by Monk Lewis when at Diodati, 
" and from the Hartz mountain-scene, that 
" Shelley versified the othei- day. Nothing 
" I envy him so much as to be able to read 
" that astonishhig production in the original. 
" As to originality, Goethe has too nmcli sense 
" to pretend that he is not under obhgations to 
" authors, ancient and modern ; — who is not ? 
" You tell me the plot is almost entirely Cal- 
** deron's. The fete, the scholar, the argument 
" about the Logos, the selling himself to the 
" fiend, and afterwards denying liis power ; his 
" disguise of the plumed cavalier ; the enchanted 
" mirror, — are all from Cyprian. That Magko 
" Prodigioso must be worth reading, and nobody 
" seems to know any thing about it but you and 
" ^.helley. 7'hen the vision is not unHkc that of 



LORD BYKOK. 171 

" Marlowe's, in his ' Faustus.' The bed-scene 
" is from * CymbeHne ;' the song or serenade, a 
" translation of Ophelia's, in ' Hamlet ;' and, 
" more than all, the prologue is from Job, which 
" is the first drama in the world, and perhaps 
" the oldest poem. I had an idea of writing a | 
*^ ' Job,' but I found it too sublime. There is 
" no poetry to be compared with it." 

I told him that Japhet's soliloquy in ' Heaven 
and Earth,' and address to the mountains of 
Caucasus, strongly resembled Faust's. 

" I shall have commentators enough by and 
" by," said he, " to dissect my thoughts, and 
" find owners for them." 



" When I first saw the review of my * Hours 
" of Idleness,'* I was furious; in such a rage 
" as I never have been in since. 

* Written in 1808. 



172 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" I dined that day with Scrope Davies, and 
*' drank three bottles of claret to drown it ; but 
" it only boiled the more. That criticjue was a 
" masterpiece of low wit, a tissue of scurrilous 
" abuse. I remember there was a great deal of 
*' vulgar trash in it which was meant for humour, 
" ' about people being thankful for what they 
" could get,' — * not looking a gift horse in the 
" mouth,' and such stable expressions. The se- 
" verity of ' The Quarterly* killed poor Keats, 
" and neglect, Kirke White ; but I was made of 
" different stuff, of tougher materials. So far 
" from their bullying me, or deterring me from 
" writing, I was bent on falsifying their raven 
" predictions, and determined to shew them, 
'' croak as they would, that it was not the last 
" time they should hear from me. I set to 
" work immediately, and in good earnest, and 
" produced in a year ' The English l^ards and 
" Scotch Reviewers.' For the first foiu* days 
*' after it was announced, I was very nervous 
*' about its fate. Generally speaking, the first 



LORD BYUON. 173 

" fortnight decides the public opinion of a new 
" book. This made a prodigious impression, 
" more perhaps than any of my works, except 
" ' The Corsair.' 

" In less than a year and a half it passed 
" through four editions, and rather large ones. 
" To some of them, contrary to the advice of 
" my friends, I affixed my name. The thing 
" was known to be mine, and I could not have 
" escaped any enemies in not owning it ; besides, 
** it was more manly not to deny it. There 
"were many things in that satire which I was 
" afterwards sorry for, and I wished to cancel 
" it. If Galignani chose to reprint it, it was 
" no fault of mine. I did my utmost to sup- 
" press the publication, not only in England, 
" but in Ireland. I will tell you my principal 
" reason for doing so : I had good grounds to 
" believe that Jeffrey (though perhaps really re- 
" sponsible for whatever appears in ' The Edin- 
" burgh,' as Gifford is for ' The Quarterly,' as 



174 CONVEHSATIONS OF 

" its editor) was not the author of tliat article, — 
'' was not guilty of it. He disowned it ; and 
'• thougli he would not give up the aggressor, 
" he said he would convince nie, if I ever came 
'* to Scotland, who the person was. I have every 
^' reason to believe it was a certain lawyer, who 
" hated me for something I once said of Mrs. 

" . The technical language about * mino- 

" rity pleas,' * plaintiffs,' * grounds of action,' 
" &c. a jargon only intelligible to a lawyer, 
" leaves no doubt in my mind on the subject. 
" I bear no animosity to him now, though inde- 
" pendently of this lampoon, which does him no 
" credit, he gave me cause enough of offence. 

" The occasion was this : — In my separation- 
" cause, that went before the Chancellor as a 
" matter of form, when the proceedings came 
" on, he took u})()n himself to apply some ex- 
" pressions, or make some allusions to me, which 
** must have been of a most unwaiTantable na- 
'• ture. as niv friends (^insulted whether they 



LORD BYRON. 175 

" should acquaint me with the purport of them. 
" What they precisely were I never knew, or 
" should certainly have made him retract them. 
" I met him afterwards at Coppet, but was not 
" at that time acquainted with this circum- 
" stance. He took on himself the advocate also, 
" in writing to Madame de Stael, and advising 
" her not to meddle in the quarrel between Lady 
" Byron and myself. This was not kind ; it 
" was a gratuitous and unfeed act of hostility. 
" But there was another reason that influenced 
" me even more than my cooled resentment 
" against Jeffrey, to suppress ' English Bards 
" and Scotch Reviewers.' In the duel-scene I 
" had unconsciously made part of the ridicule 
" fall on Moore, The fact was, that there was 
" no imputation on the courage of either of the 
" principals. One of the balls fell out in the car- 
" riage, and was lost ; and the seconds^ not hav- 
" ing a further supply, drew the remaining one. 

" Shortly after this publication I went abroad : 



176 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" and Moore was so offended by the mention of 
" the leadless pistols, that he addressed a letter 
" to me in the nature of a challenge, deUvering 
" it to the care of Mr. Hanson, but without ac- 
" quainting him with the contents. This letter 
*' was mislaid, — at least never forwarded to me. 

" But on my return to England in 1812, an 
" enquiry was made by Moore if I had received 
" such a letter ? adding, that particular circum- 
" stances (meaning his marriage, or perhaps the 
'' suppression of the satire) had now altered his 
" situation, and that he wished to recall the 
" letter, and to be known to me through Ro- 
" gers. I was shy of this mode of arranging 
" matters, one hand presenting a pistol, and ano- 
" ther held out to shake ; and felt awkward at 
•' the loss of a letter of such a nature, and the 
" imputation it might have given rise to. But 
" when, after a considerable search, it was at 
'' length found, I retunied it to Moore with the 
" seal unbroken ; and wc have since been the 



LORD BYRON. 177 

" best friends in the world. I correspond with 
" no one so regularly as with Moore. 

" It is remarkable that I should at this mo- 
" ment number among my most intimate friends 
" and correspondents those whom I most made 
*' the subjects of satire in ' Enghsh Bards.' I 
*' never retracted my opinions of their works, — - 
" I never sought their acquaintance ; but there 
^' are men who can forgive and forget. The 
" Laureate is not one of that disposition, and 
" exults over the anticipated death-bed repent- 
*' ance of the objects of his hatred. Finding that 
" his denunciations or panegyrics are of Httle or 
" no avail here, he indulges himself in a plea- 
** sant vision as to what will be their fate here- 
" after. The third Heaven is hardly good 
*' enough for a king, and Dante's worst birth in 
" the * Inferno' hardly bad enough for me. My 
"Ikindness to his brother-in-law might have 
" taught him to be more charitable. I said in 
" a Note to * The Two Foscari,' in answer to 

N 



178 CONVERSATIOXS OF 

" his vain boasting, that I had done more real 
" good in one year than Mr. Southey in the whole 
" course of his shifting and turn-coat existence, 
" on which he seems to reflect Avith so much 
" complacency. I did not mean to pride myself 
" on the act to which I have just referred, and 
" should not mention it to you, but that his 
" self-sufficiency calls for the explanation. When 
" Coleridge was in great distress, I borrowed 
" 100/. to give hhn." 

Some days after this discussion appeared Mr. 
Southey 's reply to the Note in question. I hap- 
pened to see * The Literary Gazette' at Mr. 
Edge worth's, and mentioned the general pur- 
port of the letter to Lord Byron during our 
evening ride. His anxiety to get a sight of it 
was so great, that he wrote me two notes in the 
course of the evening, entreating me to procm-e 
the paper. I at lengtli succeeded, and took it 
to the Lanfranchi palace at eleven o'clock, (after 



LOUD BYRON. 179 

coming from the opera,) an hour at which I was 
frequently in the ha]3it of calling on him. 

He had left the Guiccioli earlier than usual, 
and I found him waiting with some impatience. 
I never shall forget his countenance as he glanced 
rapidly over the contents. He looked perfectly 
awful : his colour changed almost prism atically ; 
his lips were as pale as death. He said not a 
word. He read it a second time, and with more 
attention than his rage at first permitted, com- 
menting on some of the passages as he went on. 
When he had finished, he threw down the pa- 
per, and asked me if I thought there was any 
thing of a personal nature in the reply that de- 
manded satisfaction ; as, if there was, he would 
instantly set off for England and call Southey 
to an account, — muttering something about 
whips, and branding-irons, and gibbets, and 
wounding the heart of a woman, — words of Mr. 
Southey's. I said that, as to personality, his 

n2 



180 CONVERSATIONS OF 

own expressions of " cowardly ferocity," *' piti- 
ful renegado," " hireling," were much stronger 
than any in the letter before me. He paused a 
moment, and said : 

" Perhaps you are right ; but I will consider 
'' of it. You have not seen mi/ * Vision of Judg- 
" ment.' I wish I had a copy to shew you ; 
" but the only one I have is in London. I had 
" almost decided not to publish it ; but it shall 
" now go forth to the world. I will write to 
^' Douglas Kinnaird by to-morrow's post, to- 
" night, not to delay its appearance. The ques- 
" tion is, whom to get to print it. Murray will 
" have nothing to say to it just now, while the 
" prosecution of ' Cain' hangs over his head. It 
*' was offered to Longman ; but he declined it 
'• on the plea of its injuring the sale of Sou- 
" they's Hexameters, of which he is the pub- 
*' lisher. Hunt shall have it." 

Another time he said : 



LORD BYRON. 181 

" I am glad Mr. Southey owns that article on 
" * Foliage,' which excited my choler so much. 
" But who else could have been the author ? 
" Who but Southey would have had the base- 
" ness, under the pretext of reviewing the work 
" of one man, insidiously to make it a nest- 
" egg for hatching malicious calumnies against 
" others ? 

" It was bad taste, to say the least of it, in 
" Shelley to write ABsog after his name at Mont 
" An vert. I knew little of him at that time, 
" but it happened to meet my eye, and I put 
" my pen through the word, and Mwpoc too, 
" that had been added by some one else by way 
" of comment — and a very proper comment too, 
" and the only one that should have been made 
" on it. There it should have stopped. It 
" would have been more creditable to Mr. 
" Southey's heart and feelings if he had been of 
" this opinion ; he would then never have made 
" the use of his travels he did, nor have raked 



182 COXVKRSATIOXS OF 

*• out of an album the silly joke of a boy, in 
*• order to make it matter of serious accusation 
" against him at home. I might well say he 
" had impudence enough, if he could confess 
*' such infamy. I say nothing of the critique 
" itself on ' Foliage ; ' with the exception of a 
" few sonnets, it was vmworthy of Hunt. But 
" what was the object of that article ? I re- 
" peat, to vilify and scatter his dark and devilish 
" insinuations against me and others. Shame 
" on the man who could w ound an already 
" bleeding heart, — be barbarous enough to re- 
*' vive the memory of a fatal event that Shelley 
" was perfectly innocent of, — and found scandal 
'- on falsehood ! Shelley taxed him with writing 
*• that article some years ago ; and he had the 
** audacity to admit that he had treasured up 
'• some opinions of Shelley's, ten years before, 
*' when he ^^ as on a visit at Keswick, and had 
'• made a note of them at the time. But his 
'• bag of venom was not full ; it is the nature of 



LORD BYRON. 183 

*' the reptile. Why does a viper have a poison- 
" tooth, or the scorpion claws ? " 

Some days after these remarks, on calHng on 
him one morning, he produced ' The Deformed 
Transformed.' Handing it to Shelley, as he 
was in the habit of doing his daily compositions, 
he said : 

" Shelley, I have been writing a Faustish 
" kind of drama : tell me what you think 
"of it." 

After reading it attentively, Shelley return- 
ed it, 

" Well," said Lord Byron, " how do you 
"like it?" 

" Least," replied he, " of any thing I ever 
saw of yours. It is a bad imitation of * Faust ; ' 



184 CONVERSATIONS OF 

and besides, there are two entire lines of Sou- 
they's in it.*' 

Lord Byron changed colour immediately, and 
asked hastily what lines ? Shelley repeated, 

' And water shall see thee, 
And fear thee, and Hee thee/ 

" They are in ' The Curse of Kehama.' " 

His Lordship, without making a single ob- 
servation, instantly threw the poem into the fire. 
He seemed to feel no chagi'in at seeing it con- 
sume—at least his countenance betrayed none, 
and his conversation became more gay and lively 
than usual. Whether it was hatred of Southey, 
or respect for Shelley's opinions, which made 
him commit an act that I considered a sort of 
suicide, was always doubtful to me. I was 
never more surprised than to see, two years 
afterwards, * The Deformed Transformed ' an- 
nounced, (supposing it to have perished at Pisa) ; 



LORD BYRON. 185 

but it seems that he must have had another 
copy of the manuscript, or had re-written it per- 
haps, without changing a word, except omitting 
the * Kehama ' lines. His memory was remark- 
ably retentive of his own writings. I believe he 
could have quoted almost every line he ever 
wrote. 

One day a correspondent of Lord Byron's sent 
him from Paris the following lines — a sort of 
epitaph for Southey — which he gave me leave 
to copy. 

Beneath these poppies buried deep, 
The bones of Bob the Bard lie did ; 

Peace to his manes I and may he sleep 
As soundly as his readers did ! 

Through every sort of verse meandering. 
Bob went without a hitch or fall, 

Through Epic, Sapphic, Alexandrine, 
To verse that was no versa at all ; 



186 CONVERSATIONS OF 

Till Fiction having done enough 

To make a bard at least absurd, 
And give his readers quantum suff., 

lie took to praising George the Tliird : 

And now in virtue of his crown, 

Dooms us, poor Whigs, at once to slaughter ; 
Like Donellan of bad renown. 

Poisoning us all with laurel water. 

And yet at times some awkward qualms he 
Felt about leaving honour's track ; 

And though he has got a butt of Malmsey, 
It may not save him from a sack. 

Death, weary of so dull a writer. 

Put to his works Sijinis thus. 
O ! may the earth on him lie lighter 

Than did his quartos upon us ! 



" * Heaven and Earth ' was commenced, ' said 
he, " at Ravenna, on the 9th October last. It 



LORD BYRON, 187 

" occupied about fourteen days. Douglas Kin- 
*' naird tells me that he can get no bookseller to 
" publish it. It was offered to Murray ; but he 
** is the most timid of God's booksellers, and 
" starts at the title. He has taken a dislike to 
" that three-syllabled word Mystery, and says, 
" I know not why, that it is another ' Cain.' I 
" suppose he does not like my making one of 
" Cain's daughters talk the same language as her 
" father's father, and has a prejudice against the 
" family. I could not make her so unnatural as 
** to speak ill of her grandfather. I was forced 
" to make her aristocratical, proud of her descent 
" from the eldest born. Murray says, that who- 
" ever prints it will have it pirated, as * Cain ' 
" has been, — that a Court of justice wiU not 
" sanction it as literary property. On what 
*' plea ? There is nothing objectionable in it? 
" that I am aware of. You have read it ; what 
" do you think ? If ' Cain ' be immoral (which 
" I deny), will not the Chancellor's refusal to 



188 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" protect, and tlie cheapness of a piratical 
" edition, give it a wider circulation among the 
" lower classes ? Will they not buy and read it 
" for the very reason that it is considered ini- 
" proper, and try to discover an evil tendency 
" where it was least meant ? May not impiety 
" be extracted by garbling the Bible ? I defy 
" the common people to understand such myste- 
" ries as the loves of the Angels, — at least they 
" are mysteries to me. Moore, too, is writing on 
" the same text. Any thing that he writes 
" must succeed." 

I told him that the laughter of the fiends 
in the Cave of Caucasus reminded me of the 
snoring of the Furies in the * Eumenides ' of ^Es- 
chylus. 

" I have never read any of his plays since I 
" left Harrow," said Lord Byron. Shelley, 
" when I was in Switzerland, translated the 
" * Prometheus ' to me before I \\Tote my ode ; 



LORD BYHOK. 189 

" but I never open a Greek book. Shelley tells 
" me that the choruses in ' Heaven and Earth' 
" are deficient. He thinks that lyrical poetry 
" should be metrically regular. Surely this is 
" not the case with the Greek choruses that he 
" makes such a fuss about. However, Hunt 
" will be glad of it for his new periodical work. 
" I talked of writing a second part to it ; but 
" it was only as Coleridge promised a second 
" part to * Christabel. ' I will tell you how I 
" had an idea of finishing it : 

" Let me see — where did I leave off? Oh, 
" with Azazael and Samiasa refusing to obey 
*' the summons of Michael, and throwing off 
" their allegiance to Heaven. They rise into 
" the air with the two sisters, and leave this 
" globe to a fate which, according to Cuvier, it 
" has often undergone, and wiU undergo again. 
"The appearance of the land strangled by the 
" ocean will serve by way of scenery and deco- 
" rations. The affectionate tenderness of Adah 



190 CONVERSATIONS OT 

" for those from whom she is parted, and for 
" ever, and her fears contrasting with the loftier 
" spiiit of Aholibamah triumphing in the hopes 
'' of a new and greater destiny, will make the 
" dialogue. They in the mean time continue 
" their aerial voyage, every where denied admit- 
'* tance in those floating islands on the sea of 
" space, and driven back by guardian-spirits of ^ 
" the different planets, till they are at length 
" forced to alight on tlie only peak of tlie earth 
" uncovered by water. Here a parting takes 
" place between the lovers, whicli I shall make 
" affecting enough. The fallen Angels are sud- 
" denly called, and condemned, — their destina- 
" tion and punishment unknown. The sisters 
" still chng to the rock, tlie waters mount- 
" ing higher and higher. Xow enter Ark. 
" Tlie scene draws up, and discovers Japhet en- 
*' deavoiu'ing to persuade the Patriarch, with 
'• very strong arguments of love and pity, to 
'* receive the sisters, or at least Adah, on board. 
'• Adah joins in his entreaties, and endeavours to 



LORD BYRON. 191 

" cling to the sides of the vessel. The proud 
" and haughty Aholibamah scorns to pray either 
" to God or man, and anticipates the grave by 
" plunging into the waters. Noah is still inex- 
" orable. The surviving daughter of Cain is 
" momentarily in danger of perishing before the 
" eyes of the Arkites. Japhet is in despair. 
", The last wave sweeps her from the rock, and 
" her lifeless corpse floats past in all its beauty, 
" whilst a sea-bird screams over it, and seems 
" to be the spirit of her angel lord. I once 
" thought of conveying the lovers to the moon, 
" or one of the planets ; but it is not easy for 
" the imagination to make any unknown world 
" more beautiful than this ; besides, I did not 
" think they would approve of the moon as a 
" residence. I remember what Fontenelle said 
" of its having no atmosphere, and the dark 
" spots being caverns where the inhabitants re- 
" side. There was another objection : all the 
" human interest would have been destroyed, 
" which I have even endeavoured to give my 



192 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Angels. It was a very Irish kind of compli- 
" ment Jeffrey paid to Moore's ' Lalla Rookh,' 
" when he said the loves were those of Angels ; 
" meaning that they were like nothing on earth. 
" What will he say of * The Loves of the An- 
" gels ? ' — that they are like (for he has nothing 
" left) nothing in Heaven ?" 

" I wrote * The Prophecy of Dante ' at the 
" suggestion of the Countess. I was at that 
" time paying my court to the Guiccioli, and ad- 
" dresssed the dedicatory sonnet to her. She had 
^' heard of my having written something about 
*' Tasso, and thought Dante's exile and death 
" would furnish as fine a subject. I can never 
" \A'rite but on the spot. Before I began ' The 
*' Lament,' I went to Ferrara, to visit the Dun- 
" geon. Hoppner was with me, and part of it, 
" the greater part, was comi)osed (as * The Pri- 
** soner of Chillon') in the prison. The place 
'' of Dante's fifteen years' exile, where he so 
*' pathetically prayed for his country, and depre- 



LORD BYUON. 193 

*' cated the thought of being buried out of it ; 
" and the^ sight of his tomb, which I passed in 
" my ahnost daily rides, — inspired me. Besides, 
*.■ there was somewhat of resemblance* in our 
*' destinies — ^he had a wife, and I have the same 
'' feelings about leaving my bones in a strange 
" land. 

" I had, liowever, a much more extensive view 
" in writing that poem than to describe either 
" his banishment or his grave. Poets are some- 
" times shrewd in their conjectures. You quoted 
" to me the other day a line in ' Childe Harold,^ 



* " The day may come she would be proud to have 
The dust she doom'd to strangers^ and transfer 
Oi him v/hom. she denied a home — the grave." 

Prophccij of I) ante, 

" Where now my boys are, and that fatal she'^«^ 

Ibid. 

" They made an exile, not a slave of me." Ibid. 

O 



194 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" in which I made a prediction about the 
" Greeks* : in this instance I was not so for- 
" tunate as to be prophetic. This poem was in- 
" tended for the Italians and the Guiccioli, and 
'* therefore I wished to have it translated. I 
" had objected to the Ve}^si sciolti having been 
" used in my Fourth Canto of ' Childe Harold ; * 
" but this was the very metre they adopted in 
" defiance of my remonstrance, and in the very 
" teeth of it ; and yet I believe the Italians 
" liked the work. It was looked at in a politi- 
" cal light, and they indulged in my dream of 
" liberty, and the resurrection of Italy. Alas ! 
" it was only a dream ! 

" Terza Rima does not seem to suit the ge- 
" nius of English poetry — it is certainly uncal- 
" culated for a work of any length. In our lan- 



'* Will Gaul or IMuscovite redress ye ? No ! " 

Childe Harold, Canto II. Stanza "Jb. 



LORD BYRON. 195 

*^* guage, however, it may do for a short ode. 
** The public at lea§t thought my attempt a 
" failure, and the public is in the main right. I 
" never persecute the public. I always bow to 
** its verdict, which is generally just. But if I 
" had wanted a sufficient reason for my giving 
" up the Prophecy — the Prophecy failed me. 

" It was the turn political affairs took that 
*' made me relinquish the work. At one time 
" the flame was expected to break out over all 
'^ Italy, but it only ended in smoke, and my 
" poem went out with it. I don't wonder at 
*^ the enthusiasm of the Italians about Dante. 
** He is the poet of liberty. Persecution, exile, 
*' the dread of a foreign grave, could not shake 
*' his principles. There is no Italian gentle- 
^* man, scarcely any well-educated girl, that has 
" not all the finer passages of Dante at the fin- 
" gers' ends, — particularly the Ravennese, The 
" Guiccioli, for instance, could almost repeat 
" any part of the ' Divine Comedy;' and, I dare 

o 2 



196 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" say, is well read in the * Vita Nuova,' that 
" prayer-book of love. 

" Shelley always says that reading Dante is 
** unfavourable to writing, from its superiority 
" to all possible compositions. Whether he be 
" the first or not, he is certainly the most un- 
*' translatable of all poets. You may give the 
*' meaning ; but the charm, the simplicity — the 
" classical sim])licity, — is lost. You might as 
" well clothe a statue, as attempt to translate 
*' Dante. He is better, as an Italian said, ' mulo 
" che vest it 0,' 

" There 's TaafTe is not satisfied with wliat 
" Cary has done, but he nuist be traducing 
" him too. What think you of that fine hne in 
" the ' Inferno' being rendered, as Taaffe has 
" done it ? 

* I Mantuan, capering, squalid, squalling.* 
" There 's alliteration and inversion enough. 



LORD BYRON. 197 

" surely ! I have advised him to frontispiece 
" his book with his own head, Capo di TradU 
" tore, ' the head of a traitor f then will come 
" the title-page comment — Hell !" 

I asked Lord Byron the meaning of a passage 
in ' The Prophecy of Dante.' He laughed and 
said : 

'' I suppose I had some meaning when I 
" wrote it : I believe I understood it then." * 

" That," said I, " is what the disciples of 
Swedenborg say. There are many people who 



* " li you insist on grammar, though 
I never think about it in a heat — " 

Don Juan, Canto VII. Stanza 42. 

'^ I don't pretend that I quite understand 
My own meaning when I would be very fine." 
Don Juan, Canto IV. Stanza 5. 



19» CONVERSATIONS OF 

do not understand passages in your writings, 
among our own countrymen : I wonder how 
foreigners contrive to translate them." 

" And yet," said he, " they have been trans- 
" lated into all the civilized, and many uncivi- 
" lized tongues. Several of them have appeared 
" in Danish, Polish, and even Russian dresses. 
" These last, being translations of translations 
" from the French, must be very diluted. The 
'' greatest compliment ever paid me has been 
" shewn in Germany, where a translation of the 
" Fourth Canto of ' Childe Harold' has been 
" made the subject of a University prize. But 
" as to obscurity, is not Milton obscure ? How 
" do you explain 

' Smoothing the raven down 



Of darkness till it smiled ! ' 



*^ Is it not a simile taken from the electricity of 
** a cat's back ? I U leave you to be my com- 



LORD BYRON. 199 

" mentator, and hope you will make better work 
" with me than Taaffe is doing with Dante, who 
" perhaps could not himself explain half that 
" volumes are written about, if his ghost were 
" to rise again from the dead. I am sure I 
" wonder he and Shakspeare have not been 
" raised by their commentators long ago !" 



. " People are always advising me," said he, 
" to write an epic. You tell me that I shall 
" leave no great poem behind me ; — that is, I 
" suppose you mean by great, a heavy poem, or 
" a weighty poem ; I believe they are synony- 
" mous. You say that ' Childe Harold ' is un- 
" equal ; that the last two Cantos are far supe- 
" rior to the two first. I know it is a thing 
" without form or substance, — a voyage pitto- 
*^ resque. But who reads Milton ? My opi- 
*' nion as to the inequality of my poems is this, 
" — that one is not better or worse than ano- 
" ther. And as to epics, have you not got 



200 CONVKIISATIUNS OF 

* enough of Southey's ? There 's ' Joan d'Arc,' 
' * The Curse of Kehaina/ and God knows how 
' nmny more curses, down to ' The Last of the 
' Goths !' If you must have an epic, there 's 
' ' Don Juan' for you. I call that an epic : it 

* is an epic as much in the spirit of our day as 

* the Iliad was in Homer's.* Love, religion, 
' and pohtics form the argument, and are as 
' much the cause of quaiTels now as they v. ere 
' tiien. There is no want of Parises and ]\Ie- 
' nelauses, aiul of Crim.-co/i.s. into the bargain. 
' In the very first Canto you liave a Helen. 
'Then, I shall make my hero a perfect Achilles 
' for fighting, — a man who can snuff a candle 
' three successive times with a pistol-ball : and, 
' depend upon it, my moral will be a good one ; 
' not even Dr. Johnson should be able to find a 
' flaAv in it I 

* Only iive Cantos of ' Don Juan' were Avritten when I 
held this conversation witli him, which was committed tb 
paper half an hour after it occurred. 



LORD BYRON. 201 

" Some one has possessed the Guiccioli with 
*^ a notion that my Don Juan and the Doii 
" Giovanni of the Opera are the same person ; 
" and to please her I have discontinued his his^ 
" tory and adventures ; but if I should resume 
" them, I will tell you how I mean him to gd 
"on. I left him in the seraglio. There I shall 
" make one of the favourites, a Sultana, (no less 
" a personage,) fall in love with him, and carry 
" him off from Constantinople. Such elope- 
** ments are not uncommon, nor unnatural 
" either, though it would shock the ladies to 
" say they are ever to blame. Well, they make 
" good their escape to Russia ; where, if Juan's 
" passion cools, and I don't know what to do 
" with the lady, I shall make her die of the 
"plague. There are accounts enough of the 
" plague to be met with, from Boccaccio to De 
" Foe ; — but I have seen it myself, and that is 
" worth all their descriptions. As our herb 
" can't do without a mistress, he shall next be- 
" come man-mistress to Catherine the Great. 



202 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Queens have had strange fancies for more 
" ignoble people before and since. I shall, 
" therefore, make him cut out the ancestor of 
" the young Russian, and shall send him, when 
" he is hor^s de combat, to England as her am- 
*' bassador. In his suite he shall have a girl 
" whom he shall have rescued during one of his 
" northern campaigns, who shall be in love with 
*' him, and he not with her. 

" You see I am true to Nature in making 
" the advances come from the females. I shall 
" next draw a town and country life at home, 
" which will give me room for life, manners, 
" scenery, &c. I will make him neither a dandy 
" in town, nor a fox-hunter in the country. 
" He shall get into all sorts of scrapes, and at 
" length end his career in France. Poor Juan 
" shall be guillotined in the French Revolution ! 
" What do you think of my plot ? It shall 
'* have twenty-four books too, the legitimate 
" number. Episodes it has, and will have, out 



LORD BYRON. 203 

** of number; and my spirits, good or bad, must 
^' serve for the machinery. If that be not an 
" epic, if it be not strictly according to Aristo- 
" tie, I don't know what an epic poem means." 



" Murray," said he, " pretends to have 
"lost money by my writings, and pleads po- 
'' verty : but if he is poor, which is somewhat 
" problematical to me, pray who is to blame ? 
" The fault is in his having purchased, at the 
" instance of his great friends, during the last 
" year, so many expensive Voyages and Tra- 
" vels *, which aU his influence with * The 
** Quarterly' cannot persuade people to buy, 
" cannot puff into popularity. The Cookery- 
" book (which he has got a law-suit about) has 
" been for a long time his sheet-anchor ; but 



Death to his publisher-^to him 'tis sport." 

Don Juan, Canto V. Stanza 52. 



204 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

" they say he will have to re-fund — the worst 
" oi funds. Mr. Murray is tender of my fame ! 
" How kind in him ! He is afraid of my 
" writing too fast. Why ? because he has 
" a tenderer regard for his own pocket, and 
" does not like the look of any new acquaint- 
" ance, in the shape of a book of mine, till he 
" has seen his old friends in a variety of 
" new faces ; id est, disposed of a vast many 
" editions of the former works. I don't know 
" what would become of me without Douglas 
" Kinnaird, who has always been my best and 
" kindest friend. It is not easy to deal with 
" Mr. Murray. 

" Mun-ay offered me, of his own accord, 
" 1000/. a Canto for 'Don Juan,' and after- 
" wards reduced it to 500/. on the plea of 
** piracy ; and complained of my dividing one 
" Canto into two, because I happened to say 
" something at the end of the Third about 



LORD BYRON. 205 

5* having done so. It is true enough that * Don 
' ■ Juan' has been pirated ; but whom has he 
" to thank but himself? In the first place, 
"he put too high a price on the copies of the 
*^ two first Cantos that came out, only printing 
^' a quarto edition, at, I think, a guinea and 
" a half. There was a great demand for it, 
" and this induced the knavish booksellers to 
" buccaneer. If he had put John Murray on 
" the title-page, like a man, instead of smug- 
" gling the brat into the world, and getting 
" Davison, who is a printer and not a pub- 
" lisher, to father it, who would have ven- 
" tured to question his paternal rights ? or 
" who would have attempted to deprive him 
" of them ? 

" The thing was plainly this : he disowned 
" and refused to acknowledge the bantling ; 
"the natural consequence was, that others 
" should come forward to adopt it. Mr. Joliii 



206 CONVERSATIONS OF 

"JMurray is the most nervous of God's book- 
*' sellers. When * Don Juan' first came out, he 
" was so frightened that he made a precipitate 
" retreat into the country, shut himself up, and 
" would not open his letters. The fact is, he 
" prints for too many Bishops. He is always 
" boring me with piratical edition after edition, 
" to prove the amount of his own losses, and 
" furnish proof of the extent of his own foUy. 
" Here is one at two-and-sixpence that came 
" only yesterday. I do not pity him. Because 
" I gave him one of my poems, he wanted to 
" make me believe that I had made him a pre- 
" sent of two others, and hinted at some lines 
*' in ' English Bards' that were certainly to the 
'' point. But I have altered my mind consi- 
" derably upon that subject : as I once hinted 
" to him, I see no reason why a man should 
" not profit by the sweat of his brain, as well 
" as that of his brow, &c. ; besides, I was poor 
" at that time, and have no idea of aggran- 
" dizing booksellers. 1 was in Switzerland 



LORD BYRON. 207 

" when he made this modest request, — and he 
" always entertained a spite against Shelley 
*' for making the agreement, and fixing the 
" price, which I believe was not dear. For 
" the Third Canto of ' Childe Harold,' ' Man- 
"fred,' and 'The Prisoner of Chillon,' &c. 
" I got 2400A Depend on it, he did not 
" lose money — he was not ruined by that 
*' speculation. 

" Murray has long prevented ' The Quar- 
" terly' from abusing me. Some of its buUies 
" have had their fingers itching to be at me ; 
" but they would get the worst of it in a set-to." 
(Here he put himself in a boxing attitude.) " I 
" perceive, however, that we shall have some 
" sparring ere long. I don't wish to quarrel 
" with Murray, but it seems inevitable. I 
" had no reason to be pleased with him the 
" other day. Galignani wrote to me, offer- 
" ing to purchase the copyright of my works, 
" in order to obtain an exclusive privilege 



208 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*' of printing tliem in France. I might have 
" made my own terms, and put the money 
" in my own i)ocket ; instead of which, I 
" enclosed Gahgnani's letter to Murray, in 
" order that he might conclude the matter as 
" he pleased. He did so, very advantageously 
" for his own interest ; but never had the com- 
" plaisance, the common politeness, to thank 
" me, or acknowledge my letter. My differ- 
" ences with Murray are not over. AVhen he 
" purchased * Cain,' ' The Two Foscari,' and 
** Sardanapalus,' he sent me a deed, which you 
*' may remember witnessing. We]l, after its 
" return to England, it was discovered that 
" it contained a clause which liad been in- 
" troduced without my knowledge, — a clause 
" by which I bound myself to offer Mr. Murray 
" all my future compositions ; — but I shall take 
'* no notice of it." 

Some time afterwards he said : 



LORD BYRON. 209 

" Murray and I have made up our quarrel ; 
" at least, it is not my fault if it should be re- 
^* newed. The parsons have been at him about 
" ' Cain.' An Oxonian has addressed a bullying 
" letter to him, asking him how so moral a 
" bookseller can stain his press with so profane 
" a book ? He is threatened with a prosecution 
" by the Anti-constitutional Society, I don't 
" believe they will venture to attack him : if 
" they do, I shall go home and make my own 
" defence.' 

Lord Byron wrote the same day the letter 
contained in the Notes on ' Cain.' Some months 
afterwards he said in a letter : 

" Murray and I have dissolved all connection. 
*^ He had the choice of giving up me or the 
" ' Navy List.' There was no hesitation which 
" way he should decide: the Admiralty carried 
"the day. Now for * The Quarterly:' their 
" battei'ics will be opened ; but I can fire broad- 

P 



210 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*• sides too. 'i'hey have been letting off lots of 
** squibs and crackers against me, but they only 
'• make a noise and * * * *' 

In a letter dated from Genoa the 5th of May, 
1 823, he says : 

" ' Weraer ' was the last book Murray pub- 
'' lished for me, and three montlis after came 
" out the Quarterly's article on my plays, 
" when ' Marino P^aliero' was noticed for the 
" first time," &c. 

V 

" I need not say that I shall be delighted by 
" your inscribing your ' Wanderer ' to me ; but 
** I would reconnnend you to think twice before 
" you inscribe a work to me, as you must be 
" aware that at present I am the most unpopular 
" writer going*, and the odium on the dedicatee 

* " But Juan was my iNIoscow, and Faliero 

IMy Leipsic, and my Mont St. Jean seems Cain." 

Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 56. 



LORD BYRON. 21 i 

" may recur on the dedicator. If you do not 
*' think this a valid objection, of course there 
" can be none on my part,'' &c. 



On my speaking to him with great praise 
one day of Coleridge's ' Ancient Mariner,' Lord 
Byron said : 

" I have been much taken to task for calling 
" ' Christ abel' a wild and singularly original and 
" beautiful poem ; and the Reviewers very sage- 
*' ly pome to a conclusion therefrom, that I 
" am no judge of the compositions of others. 
" ' Christabel ' was the origin of all Scott's 
" metrical tales, and that is no small merit. It 
" was written in 1795, and had a pretty general 
" circulation in the literary world, though it was 
" not published till 1816, and then probably in 
" consequence of my advice. One day, when I 
" was with Walter Scott (now many years ago), 
" he repeated the whole of * Christabel,' and I 

p2 



212 convp:rsations of 

*' then agreed with him in thinking this poem 
" what I afterwards called it. Sir Walter Scott 
" recites admirably. I was rather disappointed 
" when I saw it in print ; but still there are 
" finer things in it than in any tale of its length • 
** the proof of which is, that people retain them 
" without effort. 

** ^Vhat do you think of the picture of an 
" English October day ? 

' There is not wind enough to twirl 
The one red leaf, the last of its clan, 
That dances as long as dance it can. 
Hanging so light, and hanging so high, 
On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.' 

" Some eight or ten lines of * Christabel ' * 



' Was it the wind through some hollow stone. 

Sent that soft and tender moan ? 

He lifted his head — " c^vc. 

Siege ojCvrinth 



LORD BYRON. 213 

" found themselves in * The Siege of Corinth/ 
" I hardly know how ; but I adopted another 
" passage, of greater beauty, as a motto to a 
" little work I need not name*, and paraphrased 
*' without scruple the same idea in ' Childe 
" Harold.' I thought it good because I felt it- 
'* deeply — the best test of poetry. His psycho- 
" logical poem was always a great favourite of 
" mine, and but for me would not have appeared. 
" What perfect harmony of versification ! " 

And he began spouting ' Kubla Khan : ' 

* It was an Abyssinian maid. 
And on her dulcimer she playM, 
Singing of Mount Abora^ — 

" Madame de Stael was fond of reciting poetry 
" that had hardly any thing but its music to 
" recommend it." 



* The stanzas beginning '^' Fare thee well ! 



214 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" And pray," asked I, " what has ' Kiihla 
Khan?'" 

" I can't tell you," said he ; " but it delights 
" me." 

And he went on till he had finished the 
Vision. 

*•' I was very much amused with Coleridge's 
" ' Memoirs.' There is a great deal of bofi- 
" hommie in that book, and he does not spare 
" himself. Nothing, to me at least, is so enter- 
" taining as a work of this kind — as private 
" biography : Hamilton's ' Memoirs,' for in- 
*' stance, that were the origin of the style of 
" Voltaire. Madame de Stael used to stay, that 
" ' De Grammont ' was a book containing, with 
" less matter, more interest than any she knew. 
" Alfieri's * Life' is delightful. You will see my 
" Confessions in good time, and you will won- 
" der at two things — that I should have had so 



LORD BYEON. 215 

^* much to confess, and that I should have con- 
" fessed so much. Coleridge, too, seems sensible 
" enough of his own errors. His sonnet to the 
** Moon is an admirable burlesque on the 
" Lakists, and his own style. Some of his 
" stories are told with a vast deal of huTiiour, 
" and display a fund of good temper that all his 
" disappointments could not sour. Many parts 
** of his ' Memoirs ' are quite unintelligible, and 
'' were,' I apprehend, meant for Kant ; on the 
" proper pronunciation of whose name I heard 
** a long argument the other evening. 

" Coleridge is like Sosia in ' Amphytrion ;'^ — 
** he does not know whether he is himself or 
" not. If he had never gone to Germany, nor 
" spoilt his fine genius by the transcendental 
" philosophy and German metaphysics, nor 
" taken to write lay sermons, he would have 
" made the greatest poet of the day. What 
" poets had we in 1795? Hay ley had got a 
" monopoly, such as it was. Coleridge might 



216 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" have been any thing : as it is, he is a thing 
" ' that dreams arc made of.' ' 



Being one day at Moloni's the bookseller's at 
Pisa, a report was in circulation that a subject 
belonging to the Lucchese States had been taken 
up for sacrilege, and sentenced to be burnt alive. 
A priest who entered the hbrary at that moment 
confirmed the news, and expressed himself 
thus : — " Scelerato ! " said he, * ' he took the 
consecrated wafers off the altar, and threw them 
contemptuously about the church ! What pu- 
nishment can be great enough for such a 
monstrous crime ? Burning is too easy a death ! 
I shall go to Lucca, — I would almost go to 
Spain, — to see the wretch expire at the stake ! ' 
Such were the humane and Christian sentiments 
of a minister of the Gospel ! I quitted liim with 
disgust, and immediately hastened to Lord 
Byron's. 



LOUD BYRON. 217 

'' Is it possible ? '' said he, after he had heard 
my story. " Can we believe that we live in the 
" nineteenth century ? However, I can believe 
" any thing of the Duchess of Lucca. She is 
" an Infanta of Spain, a bigot in religion, and of 
*' course advocates the laws of the Inquisition. 
" But it is scarcely credible that she will 
" venture to put them into effect here. We 
" must endeavour to prevent this auto da fe. 
" Lord Guilford is arrived: — we will get him 
" to use his influence. Surely the Grand Duke 
" of Tuscany will interfere, for he has himself 
" never signed a death-warrant since he came 
" upon the throne. ' 

Shelley entered at this moment horror-struck : 
he had just heard that the criminal was to suf- 
fer the next day. He proposed that we should 
mount and arm ourselves as well as we could> 
set off immediately for Lucca, and endeavour to 
rescue the prisoner when brought out for exe- 
cution, making at full speed for the Tuscan 



218 CONVEUSATIONS OF 

frontiers, where he would be safe. Mad and 
hopeless as the scheme was, Lord Byron con- 
sented, carried away by his feelings, to join in it, 
if other means should fail. We agreed to meet 
again in the evening, and in the mean time to 
get a petition signed by all the English residents 
at Pisa, to be presented to the Grand Duke. 

" I will myself," said he, " write immediately 
*^ to Lord Guilford." 

He did so, and received an answer a few hours 
after, telling him that the same report had 
reached Lord Guilford ; but that he had learned, 
on investigation, that it was unfounded. 

It appeared that the Duchess liad issued a 
proclamation which made the })easant amenable, 
when apprehended, to the ancient laws of Spain ; 
but that he had escaped to Florence and given 
himself up to the police, who had stipidated not 
to make him over to the authorities at Lucca, 



LORD BYRON. 219 

but on condition of his being tried by the Tus- 
can laws. 



Speaking of Coppet and Madame de Stael, 
he said : 

" I knew Madame de Stael in England. 
'* When she came over she created a great sen- 
'* sation, and was much courted in the literary 
" as well as the political world. On the suppo- 
** sition of her being a Liberal, she was invited 
" to a party, where were present Whitbread, 
'* Sheridan, and several of the Opposition leaders. 

" To the great horror of the former, she s.oon 
" sported her Ultraisms. No one possessed so 
" little tact as Madame de Stael, — which is as- 
*' tonishing in one who had seen so much of the 
" world and of society. She used to assemble 
" at her routs politicians of both sides of the 
" House, and was fond of setting two party-men 



220 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" by the ears in argument. I once witnessed 
" a curious scene of this kind. She was bat- 
" tling it very warmly, as she used to do, with 
" Canning, and all at once turned round to (I 
** think he said) Lord Grey, who was at his 
" elbow, for his opinion. It was on some point 
" upon which he coidd not but most cordially 
" disagree. She did not understand London 
" society, and was always sighing for her cote- 
" ric at Paris. The dandies took an invincible 
" dislike to the De Staels, mother and daughter. 
" Brummell was her aversion ; — she, his. 
" There was a double marriage talked of in 
" town tliat season : — Auguste (the present 
" Baron) was to have married Miss Milbanke ; 
" I, the present Duchess of Broglie. I could 
" not have been worse embroiled. 

" Madame de Stael had great talent in con- 
" versation, and an overpowering flow of words. 
"It was once said of a large party that were 
" all trying to shine, ' There is not one who can 



LOUD BYRON. 221 

" go home and think.' This was not the case 
" with her. She was often troublesome, some 
" thought rude, in her questions ; but she 
" never offended me, because I knew that her 
" inquisitiveness did not proceed from idle cu- 
" riosity, but from a wish to sound people's cha- 
" racters. She was a continual interrogatory 
" to me, in order to fathom mine, which re- 
" quires a long plumb-line. She once asked me 
" if my real character was well drawn in a fa- 
" vourite novel of the day (' Glenarvon'). She 
" was only singular in putting the question in 
" the dry way she did. There are many who 
" pin their faith on that insincere production. 

" No woman had so much bonne foi as Ma- 
" dame de Stael : hers was a real kindness of 
" heart. She took the greatest possible interest 
" in my quarrel with Lady Byron, or rather 
" Lady Byron's with me, and had some in- 
" fluence over my wife, — as much as any per- 
" son but her mother, which is not saying 



222 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" miicli. I believe Madame de Stael did her 
" utmost to bring about a reconciliation between 
" us. She was the best creature in the world. 

" Women never see consequences — never 
" look at things straight forward, or as they 
" ought. Like figurantes at the Opera, they 
" make a hundred pirouettes, and return to 
" where they set out. A\^ith Madame de Stael 
" this was sometimes the case. She w^as very 
" indefinite and vague in her manner of ex- 
" pression. In endeavouring to be new she 
" became often obscure, and sometimes unintel- 
" ligible. WTiat did she mean by saying that 
" ' Napoleon was a system, and not a man ?' 

" I cannot believe that Napoleon was 
" acquainted with all the petty persecutions 
*' that she used to be so garrulous about, or 
" that he deemed lier of suflficient importance to 
" be dangerous : besides, she admired him so 
" much, that he might have gained her over by 



LORD BYKON. 223 

" a word. But, like me, he had perhaps too 
" great a contempt for women ; he treated them 
" as puppets, and thought he could make them 
*' dance at any time by pulling the wires. 
" That story of * Gardez vos enfans ' did not 
" tell much in her favour, and proves what I 
" say. I shall be curious to see Las Cases' 
" book, to hear what Napoleon's real conduct 
" to her was." 

I told him I could never reconcile the con- 
tradictory opinions he had expressed of Napo- 
leon in his poems. 

" How could it be otherwise ?" said he. 
" Some of them were called translations, and I 
" spoke in the character of a Frenchman and a 
" soldier. But Napoleon was his own antithe- 
" sis (if I may say so). He was a glorious ty- 
" rant, after all. Look at his public works : 
" compare his face, even on his coins, with those 
" of the other sovereigns of Europe. I blame 



224 CONVEJiSATlONS OF 

" the manner of his death : he shewed that he 
** possessed much of the Itahan cliaracter in 
" consenting to live. There he lost himself 
" in his dramatic character, in my estimation. 
" He was master of his own destiny ; of that, 
*' at least, his enemies could not deprive him. 
" He should have gone off the stage like a 
*' hero : it was expected of him. 

" Madame de Stael, as an historian, sliould 
" have named him in her ' AUemagne ;' she was 
*• wrong in suppressing his name, and he had a 
" right to be offended. Not that I mean to 
" justify his persecutions. These, I cannot 
"help thinking, must have arisen indirectly 
•• from some private enemy. But we sliall see. 

'' She was always aiming to be briUiant — to 
" produce a sensation, no matter how, when, or 
'• where. She wanted to make all her idea^, 
"• like figures in the modern French school of 
" painting, prominent and shevvy, — standing 



LORD BYRON. 225 

" out of the canvass, each in a light of its own. 
" She was vain ; but who had an excuse for 
'' vanity if she had not ? I can easily conceive 
" her not wishing to change her name, or ac- 
" knowledge that of Rocca. I liked Rocca; he 
" was a gentleman and a clever man ; no one 
" said better things, or with a better grace, 
" The remark about the Meillerie road that I 
" quoted in the Notes of ' Ghilde Harold,' ' La 
" route vaut mieux que les souvenirs^ was the 
" observation of a thorough Frenchman." 



" Here is a letter I have had to-day," said he. 
** The writer is a stranger to me, and pleads 
" great distress. He says he has been an offi- 
" cer in the East India service, and makes out 
" a long list of grievances, against the Company 

" and a Mr. S . He charges the Govern- 

" ment with sending him home without a 
" trial, and breaking him without a Court-mar- 
" tial ; and complains that a travelling gentle- 

Q 



226 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" man, after having engaged him as an inter- 
'' ])Yeter to accompany him to Persia, and put 
'• him to great expense in preparations for the 
" jom-ney, has all at once changed his mind, 
'' and refused to remunerate him for his lost 
*' time, or pay him any of the annual stipend 
" he had fixed to give him. His name seems 

" to be . You have been at Bombay, — 

" do you know him ?" 

" No," answered I ; " but I know his story. 
He was thought to have been hardly used. As 
to the other part of his complaint, I know 
nothing." 

'' He asks me for 50/. I shall send it him by 
" to-mon'ow's post : there is no courier to-day.'' 



*' \Vho would not wish to have been born 
'* two or three centuries later ?" said he, put- 
ting into my hand an Italian letter. " Here is 



LORD BYRON. 227 

«* a savant of Bologna, who pretends to have dis- 
*' covered the manner of directing balloons by 
" means of a rudder, and tells me that he is 
*' ready to explain the nature of his invention 
'* to our Government. I suppose we shall soon 
" travel by air-vessels ; make air instead of sea- 
" voyages ; and at length find our way to the 
" moon, in spite of the want of atmosphere." * 

*' Cceliim ipsum petimus siullitid,'"' said I. 

" There is not so much folly as you may sup- 
'*' pose, and a vast deal of poetry, in the idea," re- 
" plied Lord Byron. " Where shall we set 
" bounds to the power of steam? Who shall 
^' say, ' Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther ?' 
" We are at present in the infancy of science. 
" Do you imagine that, in former stages of this 
" planet, wiser creatures than ourselves did not 
" exist ? All our boasted inventions are but the 



* '^'Steam-engines will convey him to the moon." 
Don Juan, Canto X. Stanza 2. 
Q 2 



228 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" shadows of what has been, — the dim images of 
** the past — the dream of other states of exist- 
" ence. Might not the fable of Prometheus, 
" and his stealing the fire, and of Briareus and 
" his eaith-boni brothers, be but traditions of 
" steam and its machinery ? Who knows whe- 
" ther, when a comet shall approach this globe 
" to destroy it, as it often has been and will be 
" destroyed, men will not tear rocks from their 
" foundations by means of steam, and hurl 
" mountains, as the giants are said to have done, 
" against the flaming mass? — and then we shall 
" have traditions of Titans again, and of wars 
" with Heaven.'' 

'' A mighty ingenious theory,'' said I laugh- 
ing, — and was near adding, in the words of 
' Julian and Maddalo': 

" The sense that he was greater than his kind 
Had made, methinks, his eagle spirit blind 
With gazing on its own exceeding light.'* 



LORD BYRON. 229 

Talking of romances, he said : 

" ' The Monk' is perhaps one of the best in 
" any language, not excepting the German. It 
" only wanted one thing, as I told Lewis, to 
" have rendered it perfect. He should have 
" made the daemon really in love with Am- 
" brosio : this would have given it a human 
" interest. ' The Monk' was written when 
" Lewis was only twenty, and he seems to have 
" exhausted all his genius on it. Perhaps at 
" that age he was in earnest in his belief of 
" magic wonders. That is the secret of Walter 
*' Scott's inspiration : he retains and encourages 
" all the superstitions of his youth. Lewis 
" caught his passion for the marvellous, and it 
" amounted to a mania with him, in Germany ; 
" but the groundwork of ' The Monk ' is 
" neither original nor German ; it is derived 
" from the tale of ' Santon Barsisa.' The 
" episode of ' The Bleeding Nun,' which was 
" turned into a melo-drama, is from the Ger- 



230 COXVEIISATIONS OF 

" There were t\s o stories which he ahnost 
" believed by telling. One happened to hiin- 
" self whilst he was residing at Manheini. 
" Every night, at the same liour, he heard or 
" thought he heard in his room, when he was 
" lying in bed, a crackling noise like that pro- 
" duced by parchment, or thick paper. This 
" cii'cumstance caused enquiry, when it was told 
" him that the sounds were attributable to the 
" following cause : — The house in which he lived 
*' had belonged to a widow, who had an only 
" son. In order to prevent his manying a poor 
" but amiable girl, to whom he was attached, 
" he was sent to sea. Years passed, and the 
" mother heard no tidings of him, nor the ship 
" in which he had sailed. It was supposed that 
" the vessel had been wrecked, and that all on 
" board had perished. The reproaclies of the 
'' girl, tlie upbraidings of her own conscience, 
"• and the loss of her child, crazed tlie old lady's 
" mind, and her only pursuit became to turn 
'• over the Gazettes for news. Hope at length 



r 



LORD BYRON. 231 

" left her : she did not live long, — and continued 
" her old occupation after death. 

" The other story that I alluded to before, 
" was the original of his ' Alonzo and Imo- 
" gene,' which has had such a host of imitators. 
" Two Florentine lovers, who had been attached 
"to each other almost from childhood, made a 
" vow of eternal fidelity. Mina was the name 
" of the lady^ — her husband's I forget, but it is 
" not material. They parted. He had been 
" for some time absent with his regiment, when, 
" as his disconsolate lady was sitting alone in 
" her chamber, she distinctly heard the well- 
" known sound of his footsteps, and starting 
" up beheld, not her husband, but\his spectre, 
" with a deep ghastly wound across !his fore- 
" head, entering. She swooned with horror : 
'^ when she recovered, the ghost told her that 
" in future his visits should be announced by 
" a passing-bell, and these words, distinctly 
" whispered, * Mina, I am here !' Their inter- 



232 CONVEllSATIjONS OF 

" views now became frequent, till the woman 
" fancied herself as much in love with the ghost 
" as she had been with the man. But it was 
" soon to prove otherwise. One fatal night she 
" went to a ball : — what business had she there? 
" She danced too ; and, what was worse, her 
" partner was a young Florentine, so much the 
" counterpart of her lover, that she became 
" estranged from his ghost. Whilst the young 
" gallant conducted her in the waltz, and her 
" ear drank in the music of his voice and words, 
" a passing-bell tolled ! She had been ac- 
" customed to the sound till it hardly excited 
" her attention, and now lost in the attractions 
'' of her fascinating partner, she heard but re- 
" garded it not. A second peal ! — she listened 
" not to its warnings. A thud time the bell, 
'' with its deep and iron tongue, startled the 
" assembled company, and silenced the music ! 
" Mina then tumed her eyes from her partner, 
" and saw reflected in the mirror, a form, a 
" shadow, a spectre : it was her husband ! He 



LOm^BYEON. 233 

" was standing between her and the young Flo- 
" rentine, and whispered in a solemn and me- 
" lancholy tone the accustomed accents, ' Mina, 
"I am here !' — She instantly fell dead. 

" Lewis was not a very successful writer. 
'* His ' Monk' was abused furiously by Mathias, 
" in his ' Pursuits of Literature,' and he was 
" forced to suppress it. ' Abellino' he merely 
" translated. ' Pizarro' was a sore subject with 
" him, and no wonder that he winced at the 
" name. Sheridan, who was not very scrupu- 
*' lous about applying to himself literary pro- 
" perty at least, manufactured his play without 
" so much as an acknowledgment, pecuniary or 
" otherwise, from Lewis's ideas ; and bad as 
" ' Pizarro* is, I know (from having been on the 
" Drury-Lane Committee, and knowing, conse- 
" quently, the comparative profits of plays,) that 
" it brought in more money than any other play 
" has ever done, or perhaps ever will do. 



234 CONVEKSATfONS OF 

*' But to return to Lewis. He was even 
" worse treated about * The Castle Spectre,' 
" which had also an immense run, a prodigious 
" success. Sheridan never gave him any of its 
" profits either. One day Lewis being in com- 
" pany with him, said, — ' Sheridan, 1 will make 
" you a large bet.' Sheridan, who was always 
" ready to make a wager, (however he might 
" find it inconvenient to pay it if lost,) asked ea- 
" gerly what bet ? ' All the profits of my Castle 
" Spectre,' replied Lewis. ' I will tell you 
*• what,' said Sheridan, (who never found his 
" match at repartee,) ' 1 will make you a very 
*• small one, — what it is worth.' " 

I asked him if lie had known Sheridan ? 

" Yes," said he. " Sheridan was an extra- 
" ordinary compound of contradictions, and 
" Moore will be much puzzled in reconciling 
" them for the Life he is writing. The upper 
" part of Sheridan's face was that of a god — 



LORD BYRON. 235 

" a forehead most expansive, an eye of peculiar 
" brilliancy and fire ; but below he shewed the 
" satyr. 

" Lewis was a pleasant companion, and would 
"always have I'emained a boy in spirits and 
" manners — (unlike me !) He was fond of the 
" society of younger men than himself. I myself 
" never knew a man, except Shelley, who was 
" companionable till thirty. I I'emember Mrs. 
" Hope once asking who was Lewis's male-love 
" this season ! He possessed a very lively imagi- 
'* nation, and a great turn for narrative, and had 
" a world of ghost-stories, which he had better 
" have confined himself to telling. His poetry 
" is now almost forgotten : it will be the same 
" with that of all but two or three poets of the 
" day. 

" Lewis had been, or thought he had been^ 
" unkind to a brother whom he lost young ; 
" and when any thing disagreeable was about 



236 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" to happen to him tlie vision of his lirother 
'* appeared : he came as a sort of monitor. 

" Lewis was with me for a considerable pc- 
*• riod at Geneva ; and we went to Coppet se- 
" veral times together ; but Lewis was there 
" oftener than L 

" Madame de Stael and he used to have vio- 
" lent arguments about the Slave Trade, — which 
" he advocated strongly, for most of his property 
" was in negroes and plantations. Not being 
" satisfied with three thousand a-year, he 
" wanted to make it five ; and would go to the 
" West Indies ; but he died on the passage of 
" sea-sickness, and obstinacy in taking an 
" emetic." 



I said to him, *' You are accused of owing a 
great deal to Wordsworth. Certainly there are 
some stanzas in the Thiid Canto of * Childe 



LORD BYRON. 237 

Harold' that smell strongly of the Lakes : for 
instance — 

* I live not in myself, but I become 
Portion of that around me ; — and to me 
High mountains are a feeling !' " 

" Very possibly," replied he. " Shelley, when 
" I was in Switzerland, used to dose me with 
" Wordsworth physic even to nausea ; and I do 
"remember then reading some things of his 
" with pleasure. He had once a feeling of Na- 
" ture, which he carried almost to a deification 
** of it : — that's why Shelley liked his poetry. 

" It is satisfactory to reflect, that where a 
*' man becomes a hireling and loses his mental 
" independence, he loses also the faculty of writ- 
" ing well. The lyrical ballads, Jacobinical 
" and puling with affectation of simplicity as 
" they were, had undoubtedly a certain merit * : 

* " Or Wordsworth unexcised, unhired, who then 
Seasoned his pedlar poems with democracy." 

Don Juan, Canto III. Stanza 93. 



238 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" and Wordsworth, though occasionally a writer 
" for the nursery masters and misses, 

* Who took their little ])orringcr, 
And ate their porridge tliere,' 

"* no^^' and then expressed ideas worth imita- 
" ting ; but, like brother Southey, he had his 
" price ; and since he is turned tax-gatherer, is 
" only fit to rhyme about asses and waggoners. 
" Shelley repeated to me the other day a stanza 
" from ' Peter Bell ' that I thought inimitably 
" good. It is the rumination of Peter's ass, who 
" gets into a brook, and sees reflected there a 
" family circle, or tea-party. But you shall have 
*' it in his own words ; 

' Is it a party in a })arlour, 
Cranim'd just as you on earth are eramnrd ? 
Some sipping ])unch, some sipping tea, 
And every one, as you may see, 
All silent and all d d !' 

** There was a time ^^ hen he would have 



LOUD BYRON. 239 

" written better ; but perhaps Peter thinks 
"feelingly. 



" The republican trio, when they began to 
" publish in common, were to have had a com- 
" munity of all things, like the ancient Britons ; 
" to have lived in a state of nature, like savages, 
"and peopled some ' island of the blest' with 

" children in common, like . A very pretty 

" Arcadian notion ! It amuses me much to com- 
" pare the Botany Bay Eclogues, the Panegyric 
" of Martin the Regicide, and ' Wat Tyler,' with 
" the Laureate Odes, and Peter's Eulogium on 
" the Field of Waterloo. There is something 
" more than rhyme in that noted stanza con- 
" taining 

' Carnage is God's daughter V * — 



" I offended the par nobile mortally — past all 
" hope of forgiveness — ^many years ago. I met, 

* Wordsworth's Thanksgiving Ode. 



240 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" at the Cum!)erland Lakes, Hogg the Ettric k 
" Shepherd, who had just been writing * The 
** Poetic Mirror/ a work that contains imita- 
" tions of all the living poets' styles, after the 
" manner of the * Rejected Addresses.' The 
" burlesque is well done, particularly that of me, 
" but not equal to Horace Smith's. I was 
" pleased with Hogg ; and he wrote me a very 
" witty letter, to which I sent him, I suspect, a 
" very dull reply. Certain it is that I did not 
* * spare the Lakists in it ; and he told me he 
** could not resist the temptation, and had 
'* shewn it to the fraternity. It was too tempt- 
"ing; and as I could never keep a secret of 
** my own, as you know, much less that of other 
" people, I could not blame him. I remember 
'' saying, among other things, that the Lake 
'' poets were such fools as not to fish in their 
* ' own waters ; but this was the least offensive 
'* part of the epistle." ' 



LOUD BYRON. 241 

** Bowles is one of the same little order of 
*' spirits, who has been fussily fishing on for 
*' fame, and is equally waspish and jealous. 
'' What could Coleridge mean by praising his 
*' poetry as he does ? 

'* It was a mistake of mine, about his mak- 
*^ ing the woods of Madeira tremble, &c. ; but 
' ' it seems that I might have told him that there 
'' were no woods to make tremble with kisses, 
" which would have been quite as great a 
" blunder. 

** I met Bowles once at Rogers's, and thought 
*' him a pleasant, gentlemanly man — a good 
'* fellow, for a parson. When men meet to- 
'* gether after dinner, the conversation takes a 
** certain turn. I remember he entertained us 
'* with some good stories. The reverend gentle- 
*^* man pretended, however, to be much shocked 
'' at Pope's letters to Martha Blount. 

R 



242 CONVERSATIONS OF 

** I set him and his invariable principles at 
*' rest. He did attenijjt an answer, which was 
" no re])ly ; at least, nobody read it. I l^elieve 
" he applied to me some lines in Shak- 
" speare. * A man is very unlucky who has 
" a name that can be i)unned upon ; and his 
" own did not escape. 

" I have been readmg ' Johnson s Lives,' a 
" book I am very fond of. I look upon him 
" as the profoundest of critics, and had occa- 
" sion to study him when I was writing to 
" Bowles. 

" Of all the disgraces that attach to England 
" in the eye of foreigners, who admire Pope 
•' more than any of our poets, (though it is the 
" fashion to under-rate him among ourselves,) 
" the greatest perhaps is, that there should be 



* " I do rc'ineniber thee, iny Lord Biroii," &c. 



LORD BYRON. 243 

*' no place assigned to him in Poets' Corner. 

" I have often thought of erecting a monument 

" to him at my own expense in Westminster 

" Abbey, and hope to do so yet. But he was 

" a Catholic, and, what was worse, puzzled 

" Tillotson and the Divines. That accounts 

" for his not having any national monument. 

" Milton, too, had very nearly been without a 

" stone ; and the mention of his name on the' 

" tomb of another was at one time considered 

" a profanation to a church. The French, I am 

" told, lock up Voltaire's tomb. Will there 

^* never be an end to this bigotryj^ Will men 

" never learn that every great poet is necessa- 

" rily a religious man ? — so at least Coleridge 

" says." 

" Yes," replied Shelley ; " and he might 
maintain the converse, — that every truly re- 
ligious man is a poet ; meaning by ^ poetry 
the power of communicating intense and im- 
R 2 



244 CONVERSATIONS OF 

passioned impressions respecting man and Na- 
ture." 



When I entered the room, Lord Byron was 
devouring, as he called it, a new novel of Sir 
Walter Scott's. 

" How difficult it is," said he, " to say any 
" thing new ! " Who was that voluptuary of 
" antiquity, who offered a reward for a new 
" pleasure ? Perhaps all nature and art could 
" not supply a new idea. 

'' This page, for instance, is a brilliant one ; 
" it is full of wit. But let us see how much of 
" it is original. This passage, for instance, 
" comes from Shakspeare ; this hon mot from 
" one of Sheridan's Comedies ; this observation 
" from another writer (naming the author) ; 
" and yet the ideas are new-moulded, — and 
" perhaps Scott was not aware of tlieir !)eing 



LORD BYRON. 245 

" plagiarisms. It is a bad thing to have too 
" good a memory." 

" I should not like to have you for a critic," 
I observed. ^ 

" ' Set a thief to catch a thief; " was the 
reply. 

" I never travel without Scott's Novels," said 
he : " they are a library in themselves — a per- 
" feet literary treasure. I could read them 
" once a-year with new pleasure." 

I asked him if he was certain about the 
Novels being Sir Walter Scott's ? 

" Scott as much as owned himself the author 
"of ' Waverley' to me in Murray's shop," re- 
plied he. " I was talking to him about that 
" novel, and lamented that its author had not 
" carried back the story nearer to the time of 



246 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" the Revolution. Scott, entirely off his guard, 

" said, * Ay, I might have done so, but ' 

" There he stopi)ed. It was in vain to at- 
" tempt to correct himself: he looked confused, 
" and relieved his embarrassment by a precipi- 
" tate retreat. 

" On another occasion I was to dine at 
" Murray's ; and being in his parlour in the 
'* morning, he told me I should meet the 
" author of ' Waverley' at dinner. He had 
" received several excuses, and the party 
" was a small one ; and, knowing all the 
" people present, I was satisfied that the 
" writer of that novel nuist have been, and 
" could have been, no other than A\'aiter 
" Scott. 

" He spoiled the fame of his poetry by his 
" superior prose. He has such extent and ver- 
" satility of powers in writing, that, should his 
" Novels ever tire the public, which is not 



LORD BYRON. 247 

" likely, he will apply himself to something 
" else, and succeed as well. 

" His mottoes from old plays prove that he, 
'* at all events, possesses the dramatic faculty, 
" which is denied me. And yet I am told that 
** his * Halidon HilF did not justify expecta- 
" tion. I have never met with it, but have 
" seen extracts from it." 

" Do you think," asked I, " that Sir Walter 
Scott's Novels owe any part of their reputation 
to the concealment of the author's name ?" 

" No," said he : " such works do not gain or 
" lose by it. I am at a loss to know his reason 
" for keeping up the incognito^ — ^but that the 
" reigning family could not have been very well 
" pleased with ' Waverley.' There is a degree 
" of charlatanism in some authors keeping up 
" the Unknown. Junius owed much of his 
" fame to that trick ; and now that it is known 



248 CONVERSATIONS OF 

'• to be the work of Sir Philip Francis, who 
" reads it ? A political writer, and one who 
" descends to personalities such as disgrace 
" Junius, shoidd be immacidate as a pub- 
" lie, as well as a piivate character ; and 
" Su' Philip Francis was neither. He had his 
" price, and was gagged by being sent to India. 
'* He there seduced another man's wife. It 
" would have been a new case for a Judge 
" to sit in judgment on himself, in a C?i?fi.- 
" con. It seems that his conjugal leHcity 
" was not great, for, when his wife died, he 
" came into the room where they were sitting 
" up with the corpse, and said, * Solder her up, 
" solder her up !' He saw his daughter crying, 
" and scolded her, saying, ' An old hag — she 
" ought to have died tliirty years ago !' He 
*' married, shortly after, a young woman. He 
" hated Hastings to a violent degree ; all he 
** hoped and prayed for was to outUve him. — 
" But many of the newspapers of the day are 



LORD BYRON. 249 

" written as well as Junius. Mathias's book, 
" * The Pursuits of Literature,' now almost a 
" dead-letter, had once a great fame. 

" When Walter Scott began to write poetry, 
" which was not at a very early age. Monk 
" Lewis corrected his verse : he understood 
" Httle then of the mechanical part of the art. 
" The Fire King in ' The Minstrelsy of the 
" Scottish Border,' was almost all Lewis's. 
" One of the ballads in that work, and, except 
" some of Leyden's, perhaps one of the best, 
" was made from a story picked up in a stage- 
" coach ; — I mean that of ' Will Jones.' 

' They boil'd Will Jones within the pot, 
And not much fat had Will.' 

" I hope Walter Scott did not write the re- 
" view on ' Christabel ;' for he certainly, in 
" common with many of us, is indebted to 



250 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Coleridge. But for him, perhaps * The Lay 
" of the Last Minstrel ' would never have been 
" thought of. The line 



' Jesu Maria shield thee well !' 



" is word for word from * Christabel.' 

" Of all the writers of the day, "Waltci* 
" Scott is the least jealous : he is too confident 
" of his own fame to dread the rivahy of 
" others. He does not tliink of good writing, 
" as the Tuscans do of fever — that there is only 
" a certain quantity of it in the world." * 



* Travellers in Italy should be cautious of taking 
bouquets of flowers from the Contadin'i children, as they 
are in the habit of placing them on the breasts of persons 
having malignant fevers, and think that, by communicat- 
ing the disorder to another, it will be diminished in the 
person aiFected. 



LORD BYRON. 251 

** What did you mean," said a gentleman 
who was with Lord Byron, " by calling Rogers 
a Nestor and an Argonaut ? I suppose you 
meant to say that his poetry was old and worn 
out." 

" You are very hard upon the dead^ poet, — 
" upon the late lamented Mr. Samuel Rogers, 
" (as he has been called,) — and upon me too, to 
" suspect me of speaking ironically upon so se- 
" rious a subject." 

" It was a very doubtful expression, however, 
that ' Nestor of little poets,' *' rejoined the other. 



* He used to tell a story of Rogers and • visiting 

the Catacombs at Paris together. As Rogers^ who was 

last, was making his exit, said to him, " Why, 

you are not coming out, are you ? Surely you are not tired 
of your countrymen ! You don't mean to forsake them, do 
you ?" 



252 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Compliments ought never to have a double 
sense — a cross meaning. And you seem to be 
fond of this mode of writing, for you call Lady 
Morgan's * Italy ' a fearless and excellent work. 
What two odd words to be coupled together ! " 

" Take it as you like,' replied Lord Byron, 
" I say * The Pleasures of Memory ' loill live." 

" The Pleasures of Mumviery !* Pray now, 
(speak candidly,) have you read since you were 
a schoolboy, or can you, with all your memory, 
repeat five lines of that boasted * Essay on Me- 
mory' that you have l^een bepraising so furiously 
all your life ? Instruct me where to find the 
golden fleece. Be my Jason for once." 

*' I remember being delighted with * The 
" Pleasures of Memory' when I was at Harrow ; 

* The reader is re([ueste(l ti) bear in mind that it is not 
with the author that this dialogue is held. — Ed. 



LORD BYRON. 253 

" and that is saying a great deal, for I seldom 
" read a book when I was there, and continue to 
" like what I did then. 

" ' Jacqueline,' too, is a much finer poem than 
" ' Lara.' Your allowing precedence to the iat- 
'* ter amused me. But they soon got a d\- 

vorce. 

" There you go again : your taste is too fas- 
tidious. Rogers was very much offended at its 
being said that his ' Pleasures,' &c. were to be 
found shining in green and gold morocco-bind- 
ings in most parlour-windows, and on the book- 
shelves of all young ladies." 

" But, don't we all write to please them ? 1 
" am sure I was more pleased with the fame my 
" ' Corsair' had, than with that of any other of 
"my books. Why? for the very reason be- 
" cause it did shine, and in boudoirs. Who 
" does not write to please the women? And 



254 CONVEKSATIONS Ol' 

" Rogers has succeeded : wliat more can he 
" want or av ish ? 



" There was a Mrs. once fell in love 

" with Shelley for his verses ; and a Miss Staf- 
" ford was so taken with the ' Sofa' (a very 
" different one from Cowper s) that she went 
" to France and mamed Crebillon. 

" These are some of the sweets of author- 
" ship. But my day is over. VLii, &c. I used 
" formerly ( that oli7n is a bad and a sad 
" word !) to get letters hy almost every post, 
" the delicate beauty of whose penmanship 
" suggested the fair, taper fingers that indited 
" them. But my ' Corsair ' days are over. 
" Heigh lio !" 

" But wliat has all tliis to do with Rogers, or 
' The Pleasures of Memory ?' Is there one line 
of that poem that has not been altered and re- 
altered, till it would ])e difficidt to detect in the 



LORD BYitON. 255 

patchwork any thing like the texture of the 
original stuff?" 

" Well, if there is not a line or a word that 
" has not been canvassed, and made the subject 
" of separate epistolary discussion, what does 
" that prove but the general merit of the whole 
" piece ? And the correspondence will be va- 
" luable by and bye, and save the commentators 
" a vast deal of labour, and waste of ingenuity. 
" People do wisest who take care of their fame 
" when they have got it. That's the rock I 
" have split on. It has been said that he has 
" been puffed into notice by his dinners and 
" Lady Holland. Though he gives very good 
" ones, and female Maecenases are no bad things 
" now-a-days, it is by no means true. Rogers 
" has been a spoilt child ; no wonder that he is 
" a little vain and jealous. And yet he deals 
'' praise very liberally sometimes ; for he wrote 
" to a Httle friend of mine, on the occasion of 
" his late publication, that ' he was born with 



256 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" a rose-bud in his mouth, and a nightingale 
" singing in his ear,' — two very prettily tuni- 
'• ed Orientalisms. Before my wife and the 
" world quarrelled with me, and brought me 
" into disrepute with the public, Rogers had 
" composed some very pretty commendatory 
" verses on me ; but they were kept corked 
" up for many long years, under hope that I 
" might reform and get into favour with the 
" world again, and that the said lines (for he is 
" rather costive, and does not Hke to throw 
" away his effusions) might find a place in ' Hu- 
" man Life.' But after a great deal of oscilla- 
" tion, and many a sigh at their hard destiny — 
" their still-born fate, — they were hermetically 
" sealed, and adieu to my immortality ! 

" Rogers has an unfortunately sensitive tem- 
" per. We nearly (piarrelled at Florence. 1 
" asked the officer of the Dogana (who had 
" trouble enough with all my live and dead 



LORD BYRON. 257 

''^ stock), in consequence of his civilities, to dine 
" with nie at Schneider's ; but Rogers happen- 
** ed to be in one of his ill humours, and abused 
" the Italians. 

" He is coming to visit me on his return from 
" Rome, and will be annoyed when he finds I 
*' have any English comforts about me. He 
*^ told a person the other day that one of my 
" new tragedies was intended for the stage, 
** when he knew neither of them was. I sup- 
" pose he wanted to get another of them damned. 
*' Samuel, Samuel! But," added he, after a 
pause, " these things are, as Lord Kenyon 
" said of Erskine, ' mere spots in the sun.' He 
" has good quahties to counterbalance these 
" littlenesses in his character. 

" Rogers is the only man I know who can 
" write epigrams, and sharp bone-cutters too, in 
tw) li'i es ; for instance, that on an M. P. who 

s 



258 CONVKIL-SATIONS Ol- 

** had reviewed liis book, and said he wrote 
" very well for a hanker : — 

' They say he has no heart, and T deny It : 
He has a heart, — and gets his speeches by it.' 



" I have been told," said he one Sunday even- 
ing during our ride, " that you have got a par- 
" son here of the name of N*tt.— N*tt ? I 
" think I should know that name : was lie not 
" one of the tutors of a late Piincess ? If I 
" am not mistaken, ' thereby hangs a tale,' that 
" perhaps would have been forgotten, but for 
" his over-officious zeal, — or a worse motive. 
" The would-be Bishop having himself cracked 
" windows, should not throw stones. I respect 
" the pulpit as much as any man, but would not 
" have it made a forum for politics or persona- 
" lity. The Puritans gave us cjuite enough of 
" them. — I^ut to come to the point. A j)erson 
" who was at liis house to-dav, where he ha5 a 



LOUD BYRON. 259 

*' chapel, tells me that this dignitary of the 
" Church has in a very undignified way been 
" preaching against my * Cain.' He contends, 
" it seems, that the snake which tempted Eve 
" was not a snake, but the Devil in disguise ; 
" and that Bishop Warburton's ' Legation of 
" Moses' is no authority. It may be so, and a 
^ poor unlearned man like me may be mistaken : 
" but as there are not three of his congregation 
" who have seen ' Cain,' and not one but will be 
" satisfied that the learned Doctor's object is to 
" preach against and vilify me, under the pre- 
" text of clearing up these disputed points, sure- 
" ly his arguments are much misplaced. It is 
" strange that people wiU not let me alone. I 
^* am sure I lead a very quiet, moral life here." 

A fortnight after he said : 

" I hear that your Doctor, in company with 
" some Russians, the other day, called Shelley a 
" scelerato, and has been preaching two ser- 

s 2 



260 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" mons, two following Sundays, against Athe- 
" ism. It is pretty clear for whom he means 
" them ; and Mrs. Shelley being there, it was 
" still more indecent. The Doctor is playing 
" with penknives when he handles poets.'' 

The next morning he gave us a song upon 
the Doctoi-, to the tune of "The Vicar and 
Moses." 



" I have often wished," said I to Lord Byron 
one day, " to know how you i)assed your time 
after your return from Greece in 1812." 

" There is Uttle to be said about it," replied 
he. " Perhaps it would have been better had I 
" never returned ! I had become so much at- 
'' tached to the Morea, its climate, and the life 
" I led there, that nothing but my mother's 
" death* and my affairs would liave brought me 

* In August 1811. 



LORD BYRON. 261 

" home. However, after an absence of three 
" years, behold ! I was again in London. My 
" Second Canto of * Childe Harold' was then 
" just published ; and the impersonation of my- 
" self, which, in spite of all I could say, the 
" world would discover in that poem, made 
" every one curious to know me, and to discover 
" the identity. I received every where a mark- 
" ed attention, was courted in all societies, made 
" much of by Lady Jersey, had the entre at 
" Devonshire-house, was in favour with Brum- 
" mell, (and that was alone enough to make a 
" man of fashion at that time ;) in fact, I was a 
" lion — a ball-room bard — a hot-pressed darling ! 
" ' The Corsair' put my reputation au comble, 
" and had a wonderful success, as you may sup- 
" pose, by one edition being sold in a day. 

" Polidori, who was rather vain, once asked 
" me what there was he could not do as well as 
" I ? I think I named four things : — that I 
" could swim four miles — write a book, of 



262 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" wliicli four thousand coj)ics should jje sold in 
" a day* — drink four bottles of wine — and I 
" forget what the other was, Init it is not worth 
" mentioning. However, as I told you before, 
'* my * Corsair' was sufficient to captivate all the 
*•' ladies." 



*' I am accused of ingratitude to a certain 
" personage. It is pretended that, after his 
" civilities, I should not have spoken of him dis- 
" respectfully. Those epigrams were written 
'* long before my introduction to Iiim : which 
*• was, after all, entirely accidental, and un- 
" sought-for on my ])art. I met liim one 

" evening at Colonel J s. As the 

" party was a small one, he could not help 
" observino; me ; and as I made a considerable 



'■ Tlio fact is tliat nearly JO,0(K) of several of Lord 
J5yron's productions liave ])ren sold on the first day of 
])nlj]icatinn. 



I.OllD BYllON. 263 

" noise at that time, and was one of the lions 

" of the day, he sent General to desire I 

" would be presented to him. I would willing- 
" ly have declined the honour, but could not 
" with decency. His request was in the nature 
" of a command. He was very polite, for he is 
" the politest man in Europe, and paid me some 
" compliments that meant nothing. This was 
'* all the civility be ever shewed me, and it does 
'* not burthen my conscience much. 

** I will shew you my Irish * Avatar a. ' 
" Moore tells me that it has saved him from 
" writing on the same subject : he would have 

*' done it much better. I told M to get 

" it published in Paris : he has sent me a 
" few printed copies ; here is one for you. I 
" have said that the Irish Emancipation, when 
'* granted, will not conciliate the Catholics, but 
'* will be considered as a measure of expediency, 
'* and the resort of fear. But you will have the 
" sentiment in the words of the original." 



2()4 CONVERSATIONS Ol 

THE IRISH AVATAUA. 

Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her j^rave, 
Whilst her ashes still Hoat to their home o'er the tide, 

Lo ! George the triumphant speeds over the wave 

To the long-chcrish'd Isle which he loved — like his Bride. 

True, the great of her bright and brief era are gone, — 
The rainbow-like epoch when Freedom could pause. 

For the few little years out of centuries won, — 

That betray'd not, and crush'd not, and we})t not her 
cause. 

True, the chains of the Catholic clank o'er his rags. 
The Castle still stands, and the Senate 's no more ; 

And the famine that dwells on her freedomless crags, 
Is extending its steps to her desolate shore : — 

To lier desolate shore, wliere the emigrant stands 
For a moment to pause ere he Hies from liis hearth ; 

Tears fall on his chain, though it drops from liis hands, 
— For the dungeon lie quits is tlie ])lace of his birth. 

But he conies ! the Messiah of I^n•alty comes ! 

Like a goodly Leviathan roll'd from the waves ! 
Then receive him, as best sucli an vVdvent becomes. 

With a legicm of cooks, and an army of slaves. 



LORD BYKOK. 265 

He comes ! in the promise and bloom of three-seore. 
To perform in the pageant the Sovereign's part ! 

But long live the Shamrock that shadows him o'er^ 
Could the green on his hat be transferr'd to his heart : 

Could that long- withered spot be but verdant again, 
And a new spring of noble affections arise. 

Then might Freedom forgive thee this dance with thy chain. 
And the shout of thy Slavery which saddens the skies. 

Is it madness or meanness which clings to thee now ? 

Were he God — as he is but the commonest clay. 
With scarce fewer wrinkles than sins on his brow — - 

Such servile devotion might shame him away ! 

But roar in his train ; let thine orators l^sh 
Their fanciful spirits to pamper his pride : 

Not thus did thy Grattan indignantly flash 
His soul on the freedom implored and denied ! 

Ever-glorious Grattan ! the best of the good ! 

So simple in heart — so sublime in the rest. 
With all that Demosthenes wanted endued. 

And his victor, or rival, in all he ^ssesS'd ; 



2GG CONVEKSATIONS OF 

Ere Tully arose in the zenith of Rome, 

By some, though iine([ualj the task was begun : 

But Grattan sprung up, like a God from the tomb 
Of ages, — the first, last, the Saviour — the One ! 

With the skill of an Orpheus to soften tlie brute — 
With the fire of Prometheus to kindle mankind ; 

Even Tyranny, listening, sat melted or mute. 
And Corruj)tion sank scorch'd from tlie glance of his mind. 

Ay ! back to our theme — back to despots and slaves, 
Feasts furnished by Famine — rejoicings by Pain : 

True Freedom but wclcmnes, while Slavery still raves, 
When a week's Saturnalia have loosen'd her chain. 

Let the poor squalid splendour thy Mreck can afford, 
(As the bankrupt's profusion liis ruin would liidc,) 

Gild over the palace, — lo ! Erin thy lord, — 

Kiss his foot, with thy blessing, for blessings deni^'d ! 

And if fre^^dom })ast hope be extorted at last, — 
If the idol of brass find his feet are of clay, — 

IMust wliat terror or ])olicy ^vrung forth l)e class'd 

With what monarchs ne'er give, but as wolves yiehl 
their prey ? 



LOUD BYEON. 267 

Each brute hath its nature, — a king's is to reign : — 
To reign ! — in that word see, ye ages, comprised 

The cause of the curses all annals contain. 

From Caesar the dreaded to ^ the despised ! 

Wear, Fingal, thy trappings ! O'Connell, proclaim 

His accomplishments — his ! ! — and thy country con- 
vince. 

Half an age's contempt was an error of Fame, 

And that " Hal is the * * * * sweetest young Prince !" 

Will thy yard of blue ribbon, poor Fingal ! recall 
The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs ? 

Or has it not bound thee the fastest of all 

The slaves who now hail their betrayer with hymns ? 

Ay, "^ build him a dwelling !" let each give his mite. 
Till, like Babel, this new royal dome has arisen : 

Let thy beggars and Helots their pittance unite. 
And a palace bestow for a poor-house and prison ! 

Spread, spread for Vitellius the royal repast. 

Till the gluttonous * * * * be stufF'd to the gorge. 

And the roar of his drunkards proclaim him at last 
The * * * of the fools and * * * * * call'd ! 



268 COXVEKSATIOXs OF 

Let the tables be loaded with feasts till they i;roaii, — 
Till they groan like thy people through ages of woe 

Let the wine flow around the old Bacchanal's throne. 
Like the blood **»**********. 

But let not his name be thine idol alone ! 

On his right hand behold a Sejanus appears — 
Thine own C ! Let \\m\ still be thine own ! — 

A Avretch never named but with curses and tears, 

Till now, when this Isle, that should blush for his birth. 
Deep, deep as the gore which he shed on her soil, 

Seems proud of the reptile that crawl'd from her earth, 
And for * * * * repays him with shouts and a smile !- 

Without one single ray of her genius, — without 
The fancy, the manhood, the tire of her race, — 

The miscreant who well might ])lunge Erin in doubt 
If she ever gave birth to a being so base ! 

If she did, may her long-boasted proverb ])e hush'd, 
Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can spring 

See the cold-blooded serpent, witli venom full flush'd, 
Still warmim: its folds in the lieart of a kinir ! 



LORD BYRON. 269 

Shouts drinks feast, and flatter ! Oh, Erin ! how low 
Wert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny, till 

Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee below 
The depth of thy deep in a deeper gulph still ! 

My voice, though but humble, was raised in thy right ; 

My vote,* as a freeman's, still voted thee free ; 
My arm, though but feeble, would arm in thy fight ; 

And this heart, though outworn, had a throb still for thee I 

Yes ! I loved thee and thine, though thou wert not my land ; 

I have known noble hearts and brave souls in thy sons, 
And I wept with the world on the patriot band 

Who are gone, — but I weep them no longer as once ! 

For happy are they now reposing afar — 

Thy Curran, thy Grattan, thy Sheridan — all. 

Who for years were the chiefs in the eloquent war. 
And redeem'd, if they have not retarded thy fall ! — 

Yes I happy are they in their cold English graves ! 

Their shades cannot start at thy shouts of to-day ; 
Nor the steps of enslavers and chain-kissing slaves 

Be stamp'd in the turf o'er their fetterless clay ! 

* He spoke on the Catholic Question. 



270 CONVERSATIONS OF 

Till now I hjid envied thy sons and thy shore I 

Though their virtues are blunted, their liberties fled, 

There is something so warm and sublime in tlie core 
Of an Irishman's heart, that I envy — their dead ! 

Or if aught in my bosom can quench for an hour 
My contempt for a nation so servile, though sore, 

Which, though trod like the worm, will not turn upon 
power, 
*Tis the glory of G rattan — the genius of IMoore ! 



" What a no])lc Icllow," said Lord Byron, 
after I had finished reading, " was Lord Ed- 
" ward Fitzgerald ! — and what a romantic and 
" singular history was his ! If it were not too 
" near our times, it would make the finest sub- 
" ject in the world for an historical novel." 

*' What was there so singular in his life and 
adventures?" I asked. 

" Lord Edward Fitzgerald," said he, " was 
'* a soldier from a boy. He served in America, 



LOPcD EYRON. 271 

" and was left for dead in one of the pitched 
" battles, (I forget which,) and returned in the 
" list of killed. Having been found in the field 
" after the removal of the wounded, he was 
" recovered by the kindness and compassion of 
" a native, and restored to his family as one 
" from the grave. On coming back to Eng- 
" land, he employed himself entirely in the 
*' duties of his corps and the study of military 
" tactics, and got a regiment. The French Re- 
'* volution now broke out, and with it a flame 
" of liberty burnt in the breast of the young 
*^ Irishman. He paid this year a visit to Paris, 
" where he formed an intimacy with Tom 
" Paine, and came over with him to England. 

" There matters rested, till, dining one day 
" at his regimental mess, he ordered the band 
" to play ' Ca ira^ the great revolutionary air. 
" A few days afterwards he received a letter 
" from head-quarters, to say that the King dis- 
*' pensed with his services. 



272 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

'' Ho now j)aid a second visit to America, 
" where he lived for two years among the native 
" Indians ; and once again crossing the Atlantic, 
** settled on his family estate in Ireland, where 
" he fulfilled all the duties of a country gentle- 
" man and magistrate. Here it was that lie 
" became acquainted with the O'Connors, and 
" in conjunction with them zealously exerted 
" himself for the emancipation of their country. 
" On their imprisonment he was proscribed, and 
" secreted himself for six weeks in what are 
" called the liberties of Dublin ; but was at 
" length betrayed by a woman. 

*' Major Sirr and a party of the military 
" entered his bed-room, wliich lie always kept 
" unlocked. At the voices he started up in !)ed 
" and seized his pistols, when Major Sirr fired 
'* and wounded him. Taken to prison, he soon 
** after died of liis wound, before he could be 
" brought t(j trial. Such was the fate of one 
'* who liad all the (piahfication? of a hero and a 



LORD BYRON. 273 

** patriot ! Had he lived, perhaps Ireland had 
" not now been a land of Helots." 



" What did you mean," asked I one day, " by 
that line in ' Beppo,' — 

' Some play the devil, and then write a novel ?** " 

" I alluded," replied he, " to a novel that had 
" some fame in consequence of its being consi- 
" dered a history of my life and adventures, 
" character and exploits, mixed up with innu- 
" merable lies and lampoons upon others. Ma- 
" dame de Stael asked me if the picture was 
" hke me,: — and the Germans think it is not a 
" caricature. One of my foreign biographers 
" has tacked name, place, and circumstance to 
" the Florence fable, and gives me a principal 
" instead of a subordinate part in a certain tra- 
" gical history therein narrated. Unfortunately 
" for my biographers, I was never at Florence 
'* for more than a few days in my life. Hence, 

T 



274 CONVERSATIONS OF 

** however, it has been alleged that murder is 
" my instinct ; and to make innocence my vic- 
" tim and my prey, part of my nature. I ima- 
" gine that this dark hint took its origin from 
" one of my Notes in the ' The Giaour,' in 
" which I said that the countenance of a person 
" dying by stabs retained the character of fero- 
" city, or of the particular passion imprinted on 
** it, at the moment of dissolution. A sage re- 
*' viewer makes this comment on my remark : — 
" * It must have been the result of personal 
" observation !' 

" But I am made out a very amiable person 
" in that novel ! The only thing belonging to 
" me in it, is part of a letter ; but it is mixed 
" up with much fictitious and poetical matter. 

*' Shelley told me he was offei-ed, by 

" the bookseller in Bond Street, no small sum 
" if he would compile the Notes of that book 
" into a story ; but that he declined the offer. 



LORD BYIiON, 275 

* * * * * ^ * 

ifr * * * * * 

^ * * * * * 

*' But if I know the authoress, I have seen let- 
" ters of hers much better written than any 
" part of that novel. A lady of my acquaint- 
'' ance told me, that when that book was going 
" to the press, she was threatened with cutting 

" a prominent figure in it if . But the 

*' story would only furnish evidence of the un- 
" authenticity of the nature of the materials, 
" and shew the manner and spirit with which 
" the piece was got up. — ^Yet I don't know why 
" I have been led to talk about such nonsense, 
'* which I paid no more attention to than I have 
" to the continual calumnies and lies that have 
" been unceasingly circulated about me, in public 
" prints, and through anonymous letters. I got 
" a whole heap of them when I was at Venice, 
" and at last found out that I had to thank Mr. 
" Sotheby for the greater share of them. It was 
T 2 



276 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*' under the waspishness produced by this dis- 
*' covery that I made him figure also in my 
** ' Beppo' as an ' antique gentleman of rhyme,' 
" a ' bustling Botherby,' Sec. I always thought 
" him the most insufferable of bores, and the 
'* curse of the HampbeU, as Edge worth was of 
" his club. There was a society formed for the 
" suppression of Edge worth, and sending him 
" back to Ireland ; — but I should have left the 
*' other to his 

' Snug coterie and literary lady,' 

" and to his that Rogers pre- 

" tended to take for an old arm-chair, if he had 
" not made himself an active bore, by dunning 
" me with disagreeable news, — and, what was 
*' worse, and more nauseous and indigestible 
'^ still, with his criticisms and advice. 

" When Galignani was about to pubHsh a 
** new edition of my works, he applied to 



LORD BYRON. 277 

*' Moore to furnish him with some anecdotes of 
*'me; and it was suggested that we should 
'* get up a series of the most unaccountable 
** and improbable adventures, to gull the Pari- 
" sian and travelling world with : but I thought 
" afterwards that he had quite enough of the 
" fabulous at command without our inventing 
" any thing new, which indeed would have re- 
" quired ingenuity.* 

'* You tell me that the Baron Lutzerode has 
"been asking you for some authentic par- 
" ticulars of my life, to affix to his translation 
"of 'Cain,' and thus contradict the German 
''stories circulated about me, and which, I un- 
"' derstand, even Goethe believes. Why don't 

* The reader will laugh when I tell him that it was 
asserted to a friend of mine, that the lines '^ To Thyrza/ ^ 
published with the First Canto of ' Childe Harold/ were 
addressed to^-his bear. There is nothing so malignant 
that hatred will not invent, or folly believe. 



278 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

" you write something for him, Medwin ? I 
" believe you know more of me than any one 
" else, — things even that are not in the book,'' 

I said, " My friend the Baron is a great en- 
thusiast about you, and I ani sure you would 
like him.'' 

" Taaffe told me the other day,'' he replied, 
" a noble trait of him, which perhaps you have 
'• not heard, and which makes me highly re- 
" spect him. An only child of his was danger- 
" ously ill of a malignant fever : — it was sup- 
" posed by the physicians that he might be 
" saved by bleeding ; but blood would not 
" follow the lancet, and the Baron breathed 
** the vein with his mouth. The boy died, and 
" the father took the contagion, and was near 
" following his child to the grave." 

•• Well then,' said I, '' shall I bring the 
Baron ? " 



LORD BYRON. 279 

" I have declined," replied Lord Byron, 
'' going to Court ; and as he belongs to it, must 
" also decline his visit. I neither like princes 
" nor their satellites ; though the Grand Duke 
" is a very respectable tyrant — a kind of 
" Leopold. I will make my peace with your 
" amiable friend by sending him a ' Cain ' and 
" * Don Juan ' as a present, and adding to the 
" first page of the latter an impression of my 
" seal, with the motto ' Elle vous suit partout.'^ 
" This will please a German sentimentalist.'' 

There is an acquaintance of mine here,'' said 
I, "who has made a translation of a passage 
in De la Martine, relating to you, which I will 
shew you. He compares you to an eagle feeding 
oh human hearts, and lapping their blood, &c." 

" Why, we have got a little nest of singing 

* ^See ' Don Juan/ Canto I. Stanza 198. 



280 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" birds here,"' said he; " I should like to see it. 
" I never met with the 'Meditations Poetiques : ' 
'* bring it to-morrow." 

The next day I shewed him the lines, which 
he compared with the original, and said they 
were admirable, and that he considered them 
on the whole very complimentary ! ! " Tell 
" your friend so, and beg him to make my 
" compliments to Mr. De la Martine, and say 
** that I thank him for his verses." 



" Harrow," said he, " has been the nursery of 
" almost all the politicians of the day." 

" I wonder," said I, " that you have never 
had the ambition of being one too,'' 

" I take little interest," replied he, " in the 
•' politics at home. I am not made for what 
" you call a politician, and should never have 



i 



LORD BYIION. 2B1 

" adhered to any party. ^' I should have taken 
" no part in the petty intrigues of cabinets, or 
" the pettier factions and contests for power 
" among parliamentary men. Among our 
*' statesmen, Ca?tlereagh is almost the only one 
" whom I have attacked ; the only public cha- 
" racter whom I thoroughly detest, and against 
" whom I will never cease to level the shafts of 
" my political hate. 

" I only addressed the House twice, and 
" made little impression. They told me that 
" my manner of speaking was not dignified 
" enough for the Lords, but was more calcu- 
" lated for the Commons. I believe it was 
"a Don Juan kind of speech. The two oc- 
" casions were, the Catholic Question,! and 

* " The consequence of being of no party^ 
I shall offend all parties. Never mind ! " 

Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 26. 

t A gentleman who was present at" his maiden speech, 
on the Catholic question^ says^ that the Lords left their 



282 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" and (1 think he said) some Manchester 
" affair. 

" Perhaps, if I had never travelled, — never 
*' left my own country young, — my views 
" would have been more limited. They ex- 
" tend to the good of mankind in general — of 
" the world at large. Perhaps the prostrate 
" situation of Portugal and Spain — the tyranny 
" of the Turks in Greece — the oppressions of 
" the Austrian Government at Venice — the 
" mental debasement of the Papal States, (not 
" to mention Ireland,) — tended to inspire me 
" with a love of liberty. No Italian could 
" have rejoiced more than I, to have seen a 
" Constitution established on this side the Alps. 
*' I felt for Roma2:na as if she had been my 



seats and gathered round him in a circle ; a proof, at least, 
of the interest which ho excited : and that the same 
style \VA% attempted in tlie Commons the next day, bnt 
failed. 



LORD BYllON. 283 

" own country, and would have risked my life 
" and forttine for her, as I may yet for the 
" Greeks.* I am become a citizen of the world. 
" There is no man I envy so much as Lord 
" Cochrane. His entrance into Lima, which I 
" see announced in to-day's paper, is one of 
*' the great events of the day. Mavrocordato, 
" too, (whom you know so well,) is also worthy 
" of the best times of Greece. Patriotism and 
" virtue are not quite extinct." 

I told him that I thought the finest lines he 



"^ " And I will war, at least, in words, (and — should 
My chance so happen, — deeds) with all who war 
With thought. And of Thought's foes by far most rude 
Tyrants and sycophants have been and are. 

I know not who may conquer ; if I could 

Have such a prescience, it should be no bar 
To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation 
Of every despotism in every nation \" 

Don Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 24 



284 CONVEHSATIOXS OF 

liad ever written were his " Address to Greece,'' 
beginning — - 

" Land of the unforgotten brave !" 

" I should be glad," said he, " to think that 
'* I have added a spark to the flame.* I love 
" Greece, and take the strongest interest in 
" her struggle." 

" I did not like, said I, " the spirit of Lam- 
brino's ode ; it was too desponding." 

*' That song," replied he, " was written 
" many years ago, though published only yes- 
" terday. Times are much clianged since then. 
" I have learned to think very differently of 



* But ^v(>^(ls ure things ; — and a small drop of ink 
Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces 
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.' 

DoJi Juan, Canto III. Stanza HH. 



LOED EYKON. 285 

" the cause, — at least of its success. I look 
" upon the Morea as secure. There is more 
"to be apprehended from friends than foes. 
"Only keep the Vandals out of it; they would 
"be like the Goths here." 

" What do you think of the Turkish power," 
I asked, " and of their mode of fighting ?'* 

" The Turks are not so despicable an enemy 
" as people suppose. They have been carrying 
" on a war with Russia, or rather Russia with 
"them, since Peter the Great's time; — and 
" what have they lost, till lately, of any im- 
"portance? In 1788 they gained a victory 
" over the Austrian s, and Avere very nearly 
" making the Emperor of Austria prisoner, 
" though his army consisted of 80,000 men. 

" They beat us in Egypt, and took one of 
"our generals. Their mode of fighting is 
" not unformidable. Their cavalry falls very 



286 COXVEllSATIONS OF 

" little short of ours, and is better mounted — 
" their horses better managed. Look, ibr in- 
" stance, at the Arab the Tiu'kish Prince here 
"■ rides ! — I'hey are divided into parties of 
" sixty, with a flag or standard to each. They 
" coine down, discharge their pieces, and ' are 
" supplied by another party ; and so on in 
" succession. When they charge, it is by 
" troops, like our successive squadrons.'' 

" I reminded you," said I, " the other day of 
having said, in * Childe Harold,' that the Greeks 
would have to fight their own battles, — work 
out their own emancipation. That was your 
prophetic age ; Voltaire and Alfieri had theirs, 
and even Goldsmith." 

Shelley, who was present, observed : — '* Poets 
are sometimes the echoes of words of which 
they know not the power, — the ti'um})et tliat 
sounds to battle, and feels not what it in- 
spues." 



LORD BYRON. 287 

" In what year was it," I asked, " that you 
wrote that line, 

' Will Frank or Muscovite assist you ? — No V " 

" Some time in 181 L The ode was writ- 
" ten about the same time. I expressed the 
" same sentiments in one of its stanzas.* 

" I will tell you a plan I have in embryo. 
" I have formed a strong wish to join the 
" Greeks. Gamba is anxious to be of the party. 
" I shall not, however, leave Italy without pro- 
" per authority and full power from the Patriot 
** Government. I mean to write to them, and 



* The lines to which he alluded were — 

" Trust not for freedom to the Franks ; 
They have a king who buys and sells : 
In native swords and native ranks. 
The only hope of freedom dwells ! " 

Do?i Juan, Canto III. Page o\. 



288 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" that will take time ; — besides, the Guic- 
" cioli!*'^ 



" I have received,'' said he, " from my sister, 
" a lock of Napoleon's hair, which is of a beau- 
" tiful black. If Hunt were here, we should 
*' have half-a-dozen sonnets on it. It is a va- 
" luable present ; but, according to my Lord 



* I have heard Lord Byron reproached for leaving the 
Guiccioli. Her brother's accompanying him to Greece, 
and his remains to England, prove at least that the 
family acquitted him of any blame. The disturbed state 
of the country rendered her embarking with him out 
of the question ; and the confiscation of her father's pro- 
perty made her jointure, and his advanced age her care, 
necessary to him. — It required all Lord Byron's interest 
with the British Envoy, as well as his own guarantee, to 
protect the Gambas at Genoa. But his own house at 
length ceased to be an asylum for them, and they Mere 
banished the Sardinian States a month before he sailed 
for Leghorn ; whence, after laying in the supplies for 
his voyage, he directed hh fatal course to the Morea. 



LORD EYHON. 289 

" Carlisle, I ought not to accept it. I observe, 
" in the newspapers of the day, some lines of 
" his Lordship's, advising Lady Holland not to 
" have any thing to do with the snuff-box left 
" her by Napoleon, for fear that horror and 
"murder should jump out of the lid every time 
" it is opened! It is a most ingenious idea— I 
" give him great credit for it." 

He then read me the first stanza, laughing 
in his usual suppressed way, — 

" Lady, reject the gift," &c. 

and produced in a few minutes the following 
parody on it : 

" Lady, accept the box a hero wore, 
In spite of all this elegiac stuff : 
Let not seven stanzas, written by a bore, 
Prevent your Ladyship from taking snuff V 

" When will my wise relation leave off verse- 
" inditing?" said he. "I believe, of all manias, 

u 



290 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" authorship is the most inveterate. He might 
" have learned by this time, indeed many years 
" ago, (but people never learn any thing by expe- 
" rience,) that he had mistaken his forte. There 
" was an epigram, which had some logic in it, 
" composed on the occasion of his Lordship's do- 
'' ing two things in one day, — subscribing 1000/. 
" and publishing a sixpenny pamphlet ! It was 
" on the state of the theatre, and dear enough 
" at the money. The epigi'am I think I can 
" remember : 

' Carhsle subscribes a thousand pound 
Out of his rich domains ; 
And for a sixpence circles round 

The produce of his brains. 
'Tis thus the difference you may hit 
Between his fortune and his wit.' 

" A man who means to be a poet should do, 
" and should have done all his life, nothing else 
" but make verses. There's Shelley has more 



LORD BYRON. 291 

" poetry in him than any man living ; and if 
" he were not so mystical, and would not write 
" Utopias and set himself up as a Reformer, his 
** right to rank as a poet, and very highly too, 
" could not fail of being acknowledged. I said 
" what I thought of him the other day ; and all 
" who are not blinded by bigotry must think 
" the same. The works he wrote at seventeen 
" are much more extraordinary than Chatter- 
*' ton's at the same age.'' 

A question was started, as to which he con- 
sidered the easiest of all metres in our language. 

" Or rather," replied he, " you mean, which is 
" the least difficult ? I have spoken of the fatal 
" facility of the octo-syllabic metre. The Spen- 
" ser stanza is difficult, because it is like a son- 
" net, and the finishing line must be good. 
** The couplet is more difficult still, because the 
** last line, or one out of two, must be good, 
u 2 



292 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" But blank-verse is the most difficult of all, 
" ])ecause everv line must be good/' 

" You might well say then," I observed, 
" that no man can be a poet who does any 
thing else." 



During our evening ride the conversation 
happened to turn upon the rival Reviews. 

" I know no two men," said he, " who have 
'' been so infamously treated, as Shelley and 
" Keats. If I had known that Mihnan had 
" been the author of that article on ' The Revolt 
" of Islam,' I would never have mentioned 
" ' Fazio' among the plays of the day, — and 
" scarcely know why I paid him the com- 
" pliment. In consequence of the shameless 
" personality of that and another number of 
** ' The Quarterly,' every one al^uses Shelley, 
" — his name is coupled with every thing that 



LOUD BYHON. 293 

" is opprobrious : but he is one of the most mo- 
" ral as well as amiable men I know. I have 
" now been intimate with him for years, and 
" every year has added to my regard for him. — 
" Judging from Milman, Christianity would ap- 
" pear a bad religion for a poet, and not a very 
" good one for a man. His * Siege of Jerusa- 
" lem' is one cento from Milton ; and in style 
" and language he is evidently an imitator of 
" the very man whom he most abuses. No one 
'* has been puffed hke Milman : he owes his 
" extravagant praise to Heber. These Quar- 
" terly Reviewers scratch one another's backs 
" at a prodigious rate. Then as to Keats, 
" though I am no admirer of his poetry, I do 
" not envy the man, whoever he was, that at- 
" tacked and killed him. Except a couplet of 
" Dry den's, 

' On his own bed of torture let him lie, 
Fit garbage for the hell-hound infamy,' 

" I know no lines more cutting than those in 



204 CONVERSATIONS or 

'• ' Adoiiais,' * or more feeling than the whole 
" elegy. 

" As Keats is now gone, we may speak of 
" him. I am always battling with the Snake 
" about Keats, and wonder what he finds to 
" make a god of, in that idol of tlie Cockneys : 
" besides, I always ask Shelley why he does not 
" follow his style, and make himself one of the 
" school, if he think it so divine. He w ill, like 
" me, return some day to admire Pope, and 
" think * The Rape of the Lock' and its sylphs 
" worth fifty * Endymions,' with their faun and 
** satyr machinery. I remember Keats some- 



* The lines to whicli he referred were these : 

" Expect no heavier chastisement from me, 

But ever at thj season be thou free 

To spill their venom when thy fangs o'erflow. 

Remorse and self-contempt shall cling to thee ; 
Hot shame shall burn u])on thy Cain-like brow, 
And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt as now 

A don a is. 



LORD BYRON. 295 

" where says that ' flowers would not blow, 
" leaves bud,' &c. if man and woman did not 
" kiss. How sentimental !" 

I remarked that * Hyperion' was a fine frag- 
ment, and a proof of his poetical genius. 

" * Hyperion !' " said he : • why a man might 
" as well pretend to be rich who had one dia- 
" mond. ' Hyperion' indeed ! ' Hyperion' to 
" a satyr ! Why, there is a fine line in Lord 
" Thurlow (looking to the West that was glo- 
" riously golden with the sunset) which I mean 
" to borrow some day : 

' And all that gorgeous company of clouds' — 

" Do you think they will suspect me of taking 
" from Lord Thurlow ?" 



Speaking to him of * Lalla Rookh,' he 
said : 



296 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Moore did not like my saying that I could 
" never attempt to dcscril)e the manners or 
" scenery of a country tliat I liad not visited. 
" Without this it is ahnost impossil)Ie to adhere 
" closely to costume. Cai)tain Ellis once asked 
" him if he had ever been in Persia. If he had, 
" he would not have made liis Parsee guilty of 
" such a profanity. It was an Irishism to make 
** a Gheber die by fire." 

" I have been reading," said I, " ' The Lu- 
siad,' and some of Camoens' smaller poems. 
Why did Lord Strangford call his beautifid 
Sonnets, &c. translations ?" 

" Because he wrote,'' said Lord Byron, '* in 
" order to get the situation at the Brazils, and 
'* did not know a word of Portuguese when he 
" commenced." 

" Moore was suspected of assisting his Lord- 
ship," said I. '' Was tliat so ? " 



LOUD BYRON. 297 

" I am told not," said Lord Byron. " They 
" are great friends ; and when Moore was in 
" difficulty about the Bermuda affair, in which 
" he was so hardly used, Lord Strangford offer- 
" ed to give him 500/. ; but Moore had too 
" much independence to lay himself under an 
" obligation. I know no man I would go fur- 
" ther to serve than Moore. 

" ' The Fudge Family' pleases me as much 
" as any of his works. The letter which he 
" versified at the end was given him by Douglas 
" Kinnaird and myself, and w^s addressed by 
" the Life-guardsman, after the battle of Wa- 
" terloo, to Big Ben. Witty as Moore's epistle 
" is, it falls short of the original. ' Doubling 
" up the Mounseers in brass,' is not so energetic 
" an expression as was used by our hero, — all 
" the alliteration is lost. 

" Moore is one of the few writers who will 
" survive the age in which he so deservedly 



298 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" flourishes. He wiU Uve in his ' Irish Melo- 
" dies ;' they will go down to posterity with the 
" music ; both wiU last as long as Ireland, or as 
" music and poetry." 



I took leave of Lord Byron on the 15th of 
March, to visit Rome for a few weeks. Shortly 
after my departure an affray happened at Pisa, 
the particulars of which were variously stated. 
The Courier Frangpis gave the foUowing ac- 
count of it : — 

" A superior officer went to Lord Byron a 
few days ago. A very warm altercation, the 
reason of which was unknown, occurred be- 
tween this officer and the English poet. The 
threats of the officer became so violent, that 
Lord Byron-s servant ran to protect his master. 
A struggle ensued, in which the officer was 
struck with a poniard by the servant, and died 
instantly. The servant fled." 



LORD BYHON. 299 

This was one among many reports that wer 
circulated at Rome, to which I was forced one 
day to give a somewhat flat contradiction. But 
the real truth of the story cannot be better 
explained than by the depositions before the 
Governor of Pisa, the copies of which were 
sent me, and are in my possession.^ They 
state that 

" Lord Byron, in company with Count Gam- 
ba, Captain Hay, Mr. Trelawney, and Mr. 
Shelley, was returning from his usual ride, on 
the 21st March, 1822, and was perhaps a 
quarter of a mile from the Piaggia gate, 
when a man on horseback, in a hussar uniform, 
dashed at full speed through the midst of the 
party, violently jostling {urtando) one of them. 
Shocked at such ill-breeding. Lord Byron push- 
ed forward, and all the rest followed him, and 
pulled up their horses on overtaking the hussar. 

* See the Appendix for the original depositions. 



300 CONVKRSATIONS OF 

His Lordship then asked him wliat lie meant 
by the insult ? Tlie hussar, for first and only 
answer, began to abuse him in the grossest 
manner ; on whicli Lord Byron and one of his 
companions drew out a card with their names 
and address, and passed on. The hussar fol- 
lowed, vociferating and threatening, with his 
hand on his sabre, that he would draw it, as he 
had often done, effectually. They were now 
about ten paces from the Piaggia gate. AVliilst 
this altercation was going on, a common soldier 
of the artillery interfered, and called out to the 
hussar, ' Why don't you arrest them ? Com- 
mand us to arrest them !' Upon which the 
hussar gave the Avord to the guard at the gate, 
* An-est — arrest them !' still continuing the same 
threatening gestures, and using language, if 
possible, more offensive and insulting. 

" His Lordship, hearing the order given for 
their arrest, spurred on his horse, and one of 
the party did the same ; and they succeeded in 



LORD BYRON. 301 

forcing their way through the soldiers, who flew 
to their muskets and bayonets, whilst the gate 
was closed on the rest, together with the courier, 
who was foremost. 

" Mr. Trelawney now found his horse seized 
by the bridle by two soldiers, with their swords 
drawn, and himself furiously assaulted by the 
hussar, who made several cuts at him With his 
sabre, whilst the soldiers struck him about the 
thighs. He and his companions were all un- 
armed, and asked this madman the reason of 
his conduct ; but his only reply was blows. 

" Mr. Shelley received a sabre-stroke on the 
head, which threw him off his horse. Captain 
Hay, endeavouring to parry a blow with a stick 
that he used as a whip, the edge of the weapon 
cut it in two, and he received a wound on his 
nose. The courier also suffered severely from 
several thrusts he received from the hussar and 
the rest of the soldiers. After all this, the 



302 CONVERSATIONS OF 

hussar spurred on his horse, and took the road 
to the Lung' Arno. 

" When liis Lordship reached the palace, he 
gave directions to liis secretary to give imme- 
diate infonnation to the police of what was 
going on ; and, not seeing his companions come 
up, turned back towards the gate. On the way 
he met the hussar, who rode up to him, saying, 
* Are you satisfied ?' His Lordship, who knew 
nothing or hardly any thing of the affray that 
had taken place at the gate, answered, * No, 
I am not ! Tell me your name !' — * Sergeant- 
Major Masi,' said lie. One of his Lordship's 
servants came up at the moment, and laid 
hold of the bridle of the Sergeant's horse. His 
Lordship commanded liim to let it go ; when 
the Sergeant spurred his horse, and rushed 
through an inmiense crowd collected before the 
Lanfranchi palace, where, as he deposes, he was 
wounded and his chaco found, but how or by 
whom they knew not, seeing that they were 



LORD BYKON. 303 

either in the rear or in their way home. They 
had further to depose that Captain Hay was 
confined to his house by reason of his wound ; 
also that the courier had spit blood from the 
thrust he received in the breast, as might be 
proved by the evidence of the surgeons." 

There was also another deposition from a 
Mr. James Crawford. It stated that " the 
dragoon would have drawn his sabre against 
Lord Byron, in the Lung' Arno, had it not 
been for the interposition of the servant ; and 
that Sergeant-Major Masi was knocked off his 
horse as he galloped past the Lanfranchi palace. 
Lord Byron and his servants being at a con- 
siderable distance therefrom at the time." 

It appears that Sergeant-Major Masi was 
wounded with a pitchfork, and his life was for 
some time in danger ; but it was never known 
by whom the wound had been given. One of 
the Countess's servants, and two of Lord By- 



304 COXVERSATJONS OF 

ron's, were arrested and imprisoned. It was 
suspected by the police tliat, being Italians and 
much attached to tlieir master,"-^' they had re- 
venged his quarrel ; but no proof was adduced 
to justify the suspicion. 

During the time that the examination was 
taking place before the police, Lord Byron's 
house was beset by the dragoons belonging to 
Sergeant Major Masi's troop, ^^ lio were on the 
point of forcing open the doors, but they were 
too well guarded within to dread the attack. 
Lord Byron, however, took his ride as usual 
two days after. 



* Lord Byron was the best of masters, and was perfectly 
adored by his servants. His kindness was extended even to 
their children. He liked them to have their families ^vith 
them : and I remember one day, as we were entering the 
hall after our ride, meeting a little boy, of three or four 
years old, of the coachman's, whom he took up in his arms 
And presented with a ten-paul piece. 



LORD BYRON. 305 

^* It is not the first time," said he, " that my 
" house has been a Bender, and may not be the 
"last." 

All Lord Byron's servants were banished 
from Pisa, and with them the Counts Gamba, 
father and son. 

Lord Byron was himself advised to leave it ; 
and as the Countess accompanied her father, he 
soon after joined them at Leghorn, and passed 
six weeks at Monte Nero. His return to Pisa 
was occasioned by a new persecution of the. 
Gambas. An order was issued for them to 
leave the Tuscan States in four days ; and on 
their embarkation for Genoa, the Countess and 
himself took up their residence (for the first 
time together) at the Lanfranchi palace, where 
Leigh Hunt and his family had already arrived. 



X 



306 CONVERSATIONS OF 

18tli August, 1822.— On the occasion of 
Shelley's melancholy fate I revisited Pisa, and 
on the day of my arrival learnt that Lord Byron 
was gone to the sea-shore, to assist in perform- 
ing the last offices to his friend.* We came to 

* It is hoped that the following memoir^ as it relates U* 
Lord Byron, may not be deemed misplaced here. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley, born at Field-place, Sussex, in 
] 792, was removed at thirteen years of age from a private 
school, and sent to Eton : — he there shewed a character of 
great eccentricity, mixed in none of the amusements natu- 
ral to his age, was of a shy and reserved disposition, fond 
of solitude, and made few friends. Neither did he distin- 
guish himself much at Eton : — he had a great contempt for 
modern Latin verses ; and directed his attention to Che- 
mistry, and German, instead of the exercises of his class. 
P*rom an early acquaintance with German authors lie 
perhaps imbibed a romantic turn of mind ; for we find 
him, before he was fifteen, publishing two Rosa-Matilda- 
iikc Novels called ' Zastrozzi' and ' The Bosicru^ian,' that 
bore every mark of being the ])roductions of a boy, and 
were much ropr()batcd as immoral b\ llic journals of the 
dav . He al-so made great progre>,ti iu chemistry. He used 



LORD BYIION. 307 

a &pot marked by an old and withered trunk of 
a fir-tree ; and near it, on the beach, stood 
a solitary hut covered with reeds. The situa- 
tion was well calculated for a poet's grave. 

to say that nothing ever delighted him so much as the dis- 
covery that there were no elements of fire^ air, and water: 
— but he nearly lost his life by being blown up in one of his 
experiments, and had for many years discontinued the pur- 
suit. He now turned his active mind to metaphysics, and 
became infected with the materialism of the French school. 
He was now sent to University College, Oxford, being only 
sixteen ; and after the second term printed a pamphlet with 
fi most ridiculous title, ' The Necessity of Atheism.' This 
silly work, which was a recapitulation of some of the argu- 
ments of Voltaire, he not only affixed his name to, but cir- 
culated it among the Bench of Bishops. The consequence 
was obvious : — he was soon summoned before the heads of 
his College ; and, refusing to retract his opinion, (which he 
proposed to argue with the examining masters — a greater 
madness still,) was expelled the University. 

This disgrace little affected Shelley at the time ; but it 
proved fatal to all his hopes of happiness and prospects in 
life ; and was the means of alienating him, for ever, from 
X 2 



o08 CONVERSATIONS OF 

A few weeks before I had ridden with him and 
Lord Byron to this veiy spot, wliicli I after- 



Ins family. His father, for some time after it occurred, 
would not see him ; and at length when he received him 
under his roof, treated him with so much coldness that he 
soon quitted his home ; went to London ; and thence 
eloped to Gretna Green with a I\Iiss Westbrook, their joint 
ages amounting to thirty-two. This last act exasperated 
his father to such a degree, that he broke off ail communi- 
cation with Shelley ; who, after a residence in Edinburgh 
of some muntlis, passed over to Ireland : and that country 
being in a disturbed state, published a pamphlet that had a 
considerable sale, the object of which was to soothe the 
minds of the people, telling them that moderation and 
not rebellion would tend to conciliate their oppressors, and 
give them their liberties. He also spoke at some of their 
public meetings with great fluency and eloquence. He 
was at that time a great admirer of Southey's Works, and 
before he left England had paid a visit to the Lakes, and 
passed several days at Keswick. 

He now became devoted to poetry ; and, after imbuinij; 
himself with 'The Age of Reason' and ' The Political 
Justice,' printed his ' Queen iNlab,' and presented it to 



LORD BYRON. 309 

wards visited more than once. In front was a 
magnificent extent of the blue and windless 

most of the literary characters of the day — among the rest 
to Lord Byroiij who thought it superior to Chatterton's 
Works at the same age. Speaking of it in his notes to 
' The Two Foscari, ' he says, " I shewed it to Mr. Sotheby 
as a poem of great power and imagination. No one knows 
better than its real author that his opinions and mine diiFer 
radically upon the metaphysical portion of that work : 
though, in common with all who are not blinded by base- 
niess and bigotry, I highly admire the poetry of that and 
his other productions." 

It is to be remarked that ' Queen Mab' eight years 
afterwards fell into the hands of a knavish bookseller, and 
on its prosecution its author disclaimed all desire of pub- 
lishing the opinions of his youth contained in that juvenile 
production. His marriage, by which he had two children, 
soon turned out as might have been expected, an unhappy 
one ; and a separation ensuing in 1814, he went abroad, 
and passed the summer of that year in Switzerland. 

The scenery of that romantic country tended to make 
Nature a passion and an enjoyment ; and there, during a 



olO coNVEUbATioNs or 

Mediterranean, with the Isles of Elba and Gor- 
gona, — Lord Eyron's yacht at anclior in the 

second visit in 1816, he contracted a friendship with Lord 
Byron that was destined to last for life. Perhaps the per- 
fection of every thing Lord Byron wrote at Geneva (his 
Third Canto of ' ChUde Harold/ his ' :Manfred/ and ' Pri- 
soner of Chillon') owe something to the critical judgment 
which Shelley exercised over his Avorks, and his dosing 
him (as he said) with Wordsworth. 

From Switzerland he was soon called to England by liis 
wife's unhappy fate, which threw a cloud of melancholy 
over his own. The year subsequent to this events he mar- 
ried Mary Wolstonecraft Godwin, the daughter of the cele- 
brated Mary Wolstonecraft by William Godwin. 

He now took up his abode in Bucks, and published liis 
^ Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude : ' perhaps one of the 
most perfect specimens of harmony in blank verse that our 
language possesses ; and full of the wild scenery that his 
imagination had treasured up in his travels. In this poem 
he deifies Nature much in the same manner that Words- 
worth did in his earlier productions. 



LORD BYRON. 311 

offing: on the other side an almost boundless 
extent of sandy wilderness, uncultivated and 

Inattentive to pecuniary matters, and generous to excess, 
he soon found himself embarrassed ; and not being able to 
live on his income, and still unforgiven by his family, he 
came to a resolution of quitting England, and never return- 
ing to it. 

There was also another thing that tended to disgust him 
with his native country. His child was taken from him 
by the Lord Chancellor, in consequence of the promulga- 
tion of his atheistical opinions. 

He now crossed the Alps; and resided for some 
months at Como, afterv/ards visiting Venice — where he 
strengthened his intimacy with Lord Byron. His '^ Revolt 
of Islam,' an allegorical poem in the Spenser stanza, 
written about this time, soon after made its appearance. 
Spoken of with much commendation in Blackwood's 
Magazine, it fell under the lash of ' The Quarterly,' which 
disgraced itself by gross and personal abuse of the author, 
both openly, in the review of that work, and msidimishj 
under the critique of Hunt's ' Foliage.' Perhaps little 



312 CONVERSATIONS OF 

uninhabited, here and there interspersed in tufts 
with underwood curved by tlie sea-breeze, and 

can be said for the philosopliy of the ' Loves of Laon and 
Cythna.' Like Owen of Lanark, he belieyed in the per- 
fectibility of human nature ; and looked forward to a pe- 
riod when a new golden age would return to earth ; when 
all the different creeds and systems of tlie world would be 
amalgamated into one ; when crime would disappear, and 
man be freed from shackles civil and religious. 

Wild and visionary, and dangerous, as such a doctrine 
must be confessed to be, in the present state of society at 
least, it sprang from a mind enthusiastic in its wishes for 
the good of his species, and the amelioration of mankind : 
and however mistaken the means of bringing about this re- 
form or revolt may be considered, the object of his whole 
life and writings seems to have been to develope them. 
This is particularly observable in his next work, the ' Pro- 
metheus Unbound,' a bold attempt to revive the play of 
i^schylus. This drama shews an acquaintance with the 
Greek tragedians, that perhaps no other person possessed 
in an equal degree ; and was written at Rome in the flower- 
covered ruins of the Baths of Caracalla. Here also he 
formed into a tragedy the story of 'The Cenci :' which, 



LORD BYUON. 313 

stunted by the barren and dry nature of the 
soil in which it grew. At equal distances along 

but for the harrowing nature of the subjects would not have 
failed to have had the greatest success^, both on the stage 
and in the closet. 

After passing several months at Naples^ he finally 
settled in Tuscany, where he passed with an amiable wife 
the last four years of his life in domestic retirement, and 
intense application. His acquirements Avere great. He 
was perhaps the best classic in Europe. The books he 
considered as the models of style in prose and poetry 
were Plato and the Greek dramatists. He made himself 
equally master of the modern languages : Calderon in Spa- 
nish, Petrarch and Dante in Italian, and Goethe in Ger- 
man, were his favourite authors. French poetry he never 
read ; and said he never could understand the beauty of 
Racine's verses. 

Discouraged by the ill success of his writings ; persecu- 
ted by the malice of reviewers, to which he was indiffe- 
rent — for the last three years, though he continued to 
write, he had almost given up publishing. There were 
only two occasions that induced him to deviate from the 



814 C()XVEK.SAT10XS OF 

the coast stood liigh square towers, for the 
double purpose of guarding the coast from smug- 
resolution. His ardent love of liberty inspired him to write 
' Hellas, or the Triumph of Greece/ since translated into 
Greek, which he dedicated to his friend Prince ^Maurocor- 
dato: — and his attachment to Keats produced an Elegy, 
that he entitled ' Adonais.' This is perhaps the most 
finished and beautiful of all his compositions, and the 
one he considered his best. I cannot give a fairer specimen 
of his style and manner, or a better portrait of Shelley, 
than the one he drew of himself in this poem, imd after- 
wards expunged from it. 

^' 'iMid others of less note came one frail form, 
A phantom among men, companionless 
As the last cloud of an expiring storm. 

Whose thunder is its knell ; — he, as I guess, 
Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness 

Actscon-like ; and now he fled astray 
With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness, 
And his o^vn thoughts along that rugged way 
Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their 
prey. 



LOEB BYPtON. 315 

gling, and enforcing the quarantine laws. This 
view was bounded by an immense extent of the 

His head was bound with pansies overblown^ 

And faded violets^, white and pied and blue. 
And a light spear topp'd with a cypress cone, 

(Round whose rough stem dark ivy tresses grew^. 
Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew,) 

Vibrated as the ever beating heart 
Shook the weak hand that grasp'd it ; — of that crew 

He came the last, neglected and apart,- — 
A herd-abandon'd deer, struck by the hunter's dart." 

The last eighteen months of his short but eventful life 
(he used to say he had lived to an hundred) were passed 
in daily intercourse with Lord Byron, to whom the amia- 
bility, gentleness, and elegance of his manners, and great 
talents and acquirements, had endeared him. Like his 
friend, he wished to die young, and perished in the 30th 
year of his age in the Mediterranean, between Leghorn and 
Lerici, in a storm, from the upsetting of an open boat. 
The sea had ever been his great delight ; and in the fol- 
lowing lines, written as early as 1814, he seems to have 
anticipated that it would prove his grave : — 



316 CONVERSATIONS OF 

Italian Alps, which arc here particularly pictu- 
resque from their volcanic and manifold appear- 
ances, and whicli being composed of white 

" To-morrow comes : 
Cloud after cloud with dark and deep'ning mass 
Roll o'er the blacken'd waters ; the deep roar 
Of distant thunder mutters awfully ; 
Tempest unfolds its pinions o'er the gloom. 
And shrouds the boiling surge ; the pitiless fiend 
With all his winds and lightnings tracks his prey ; 
The torn deep yawns, — tlie vessel finds a grave 
Beneath its jagged jaws." 

M'ell might his disconsolate widoAv, and the friends by 
whom he was adored, as he was by all Avho knew him, add 
in the words of Lycidas: — 

"^ It was that fatal and perfidious bark. 
Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark. 
That struck so low that sacred head of thine." 

For fifteen days after the loss of the vessel, his body re- 
mained undiscovered; and when found, was not in a state 
to be removed. 



LOUD BYPvON. 317 

marble, give their summits the resemblance of 
&now. 

As a foreground to his picture appeared as 
extraordinary a group. Lord Byron and Tre- 
lawney were seen standing over the burning pile, 

In order to comply with his wish of being buried at 
Rome, his corpse was therefore directed to be burned ; and 
Lord Byron, faithful to his trust as an executor, and duty 
as a friend, superintended the ceremony. The remains of 
one who had little repose here, now sleep with those of 
Ms friend Keats, in the burial-ground near Caius Cestus's 
tomb ; — '' a spot so beautiful," said he, " that it would 
almost reconcile me to death, to lie there ! " 

Even if Shelley had not set himself up as a reformer, 
his poetry was never calculated to be popular. His crea- 
tions were of another world. His metaphysical specu- 
lations are clothed in too mystical a language ; his allusions 
are too deep and classical for many minds to comprehend or 
enjoy them : — ^but there are some also who will love to place 
his works on the same shelf with the ' Republic' of Plato, 
and the ' Utopia' of Sir Thomas More. 



318 CONVERSATIONS OF 

with some of the soldiers of the giiard ; and 
Leigh Hunt, whose feelings and nerves could 
not cany him through the scene of horror, lying 
T3ack in the carriage, — the four jiost-horses ready 
to drop with the intensity of the noonday sun. 
The stillness of all around was yet more felt by 
the shrill scream of a solitary curlew, which, 
perhaps attracted by the body, wheeled in such 
narrow circles round the pile that it might have 
been struck with the hand, and was so fearless 
that it could not be driven away. Looking at 
the corpse, Lord Byron said, 

" Why, that old black silk handkerchief 
" retains its form better than that human 
" body ! " 

Scarcely was the ceremony concluded, \\ hen 
Lord Byron, agitated ly the spectacle he had 
witnessed, tried to dissipate, in some degree, the 
impression of it by his favourite recreation. He 
took off liis clothes therefore, and swam oflHo his 



I.OKD EYPvON. 319 

yacht, which was riding at some distance. 
The heat of the sun and checked perspiration 
threw him into a fever, which he felt coming on 
before he left the water, and which became 
more violent before he reached Pisa. On his 
return he immediately ordered a warm bath. 

^* I have been very subject to fevers," said he, 
" and am not in the least alarmed at this. It 
" will yield to my usual remedy, the bath." 

The next morning he was perfectly reco- 
vered. When I called, I found him sitting in 
the garden under the shade of some orange- 
trees, with the Countess. They are now 
always together, and he is become quite do- 
mestic. He calls her Piccinina, and bestows 
on her all the pretty diminutive epithets that 
are so sweet in Itahan. His kindness and 
attention to the Guiccioli have been inva- 
riable. A three years' constancy proves that 
he is not altogether so unmanageable by a sen- 



320 CONVERSATIONS OF 

sible woman as might be supposed. In fact no 
man is so easily led : but he is not to be driven. 
His spirits are good, except when he speaks of 
Shelley and Williams. He tells me he has not 
made one voyage in liis yacht since their loss, 
and has taken a disgust to sailing. 



" I have got Hunt with me," said he. I 
" will tell you how I became acquainted with 
" him. 

" One of the first visits I paid to Hunt was 
" in prison. I remember Lady Byron was 
" with me in the carnage, and I made her 
" wait longer than I intended at the gate of 
" the King's Bench. 

" When paity feeling ran highest against 
"»me, Hunt was tlie only editor of a paper, the 
" only literary man, who dared say a word in 
** my justification. I shall always be grateful 



LORD BYRON. 321 

" to him for the part he took on that occasion » 
" It was manly in him to brave the obloquy of 
" standing alone. 

" Shelley and myself fm^nished some time 
" ago a suite of apartments in my house for 
" him, which he now occupies. I believe I 
'* told you of a plan we had in agitation for 
*' his benefit. His principal object in coming 
" out was to establish a literary journal, whose 
" name is not yet fixed. 

" I have promised to contribute, and shall 
" probably make it a vehicle for some occa- 
" sional poems ; — for instance, I mean to trans- 
" late Ariosto. I was strongly advised by 
** Tom Moore, long ago, not to have any con- 
" nection with such a company as Hunt, 
" Shelley, and Co. ; but I have pledged myself, 
" and besides could not now, if I had ever so 
" great a disinclination for the scheme, disap- 
" point all Hunt's hopes. He has a large fa- 



322 CONVEliSATIONS OF 

" mily, has undertaken a long journey, and 
" undergone a long series of persecutions. 

" Moore tells me that it was proposed to 
" him to contribute to the new publication, but 
" that he had dechned it. You see I cannot 
" get out of the scrape. The name is not yet 
" decided upon, — half-a-dozen liave Ijeen re- 
" jected. 

" Hunt would have made a fine writer, for 
" he has a great deal of fancy and feeling, if 
" he had not been spoiled by cii'cum stances. 
" He was brought up at the Blue-coat founda- 
" tion, and had never till lately been ten miles 
" from St. Paul's. A\liat ])octry is to be ex- 
" pected from such a course of education ? 
" He has his school, howc'vcr, and a host of 
" disciples. A friend of mine calls * Rimini,' 
'* Nimim Pimini ; and * Fohage,' Follyage. 
" Perhaps he had a tumble in * chmbing 



LORD BYRON. 323 

" trees in the Hesperides !' * But ' Eimini ' 

" has a great deal of merit. There never 

" were so many fine things spoiled as in 
" Rimini.' " 



" Since you left us," said he, " I have had 
" serious thoughts of visiting America ; and 
" when the Gambas were ordered out of Tus- 
" cany, was on the point of embarkation for 
" the only country which is a sanctuary for 
" liberty. 

" Since I have been abroad, I have received 
^* many civilities from the Americans f ; among 

* The motto to his book entitled ' Foliage.' 

+ I have been favoured with a sight of a letter ad- 
dressed by Lord Byron to Mr. Church, one of the Ame- 
rican Consuls, in which he thus speaks of his Grecian 
project a few months after : 

'^ The accounts are so contradictory, as to what mode 
"^ will be best for supplying the Greeks, that I have 
Y 2 



324 CONVERSATIONS OF 

*' the rest, I was acquainted with the captain 
" of one of their frigates lying in the Leghorn 
" roads, and used occasionally to dine on board 
" his ship. He offered to take me with him to 
" America. I desired time to consider ; but at 
" last dechned it, not wishing to relinquish my 
" Grecian project. 



" deemed it better to take up (with the exception of 
" a few supplies) what cash and credit I can muster, 
" rather than lay them out in articles that might be 
" deemed superfluous or unnecessary. Here we can learn 
" nothing but from some of the refugees, who appear 
'' chiefly interested for themselves. INIy accounts from 
" an agent of the Committee, an English gentleman 
" lately gone up to Greece, are hitherto favourable ; but 
" he had not yet reached the scat of the Provisional 
" Government, and I am anxiously expecting further 
" advice. 

'' An American has a better right than any other to 
'' suggest to other nations the mode of obtaining that 
" liberty which is the glory of his own !" 



LORD BYEON. 325 

Once landed in that country, perhaps I 
" should not have soon left it ; — I might have 
"settled there, for I shall never revisit Eng- 
" laiid. On Lady Noel's death, I thought I 
" should have been forced to go home (and was 
" for a moment bent on doing so on another 
" occasion, which you know) ; but I told Hanson 
" that I would rather make any sacrifice. 

" The polite attentions of the American 
" sailor were very different from the treatment 
" I met with from the captain of a sloop of 
" war belonging to our Navy, who made the 
" gentleman commanding my yacht haul down 
" my pennant. They might have respected 
" the name of the great navigator.* In the 
" time of peace, and in a free port, there 
" could have been no plea for such an in- 



* His grandfather. Admiral Byron. I have heard him 
more than once speak of Campbell's having named him 
in ' The Pleasures of Hope.' 



o2u CONVKKSATlOJsS OF 

" suit. I wrote to the captain of tlie vessel 
" rather sharply, and was glad to find that 
" his first lieutenant had acted without his 
" orders, and when he w as on shore ; but they 
" had been issued, and coidd not be reversed. 

'' You see I can't go any where without 
*• being persecuted. I am going to Genoa in 
*• a few days.'' 



" I have almost finished," said he, " anotlier 
" play, which I mean to call * AVerner.' The 
** story is taken from Miss Lee's * Kruitzner.' 
" There are fine things in * The Canterbuiy 
*• Tales ;' but Miss Lee only wrote two of 
" them : the others are tlic compositions of her 
" sister, and are vastly inferior. 

*• There is no tale of Scott's finer than 
•• * The German's Tale.' I admired it when 
'• I was a boy, and have continued to hke 
" wliat I did then. This tale, I remember. 



LOUD BYRON. 327 

'* particularly affected me. I could not help 
" thinking of the authoress, who destroyed 
" herself. I was very young when I finished 
" a few scenes of a play founded on that 
" story. I perfectly remember many of the 
" lines as I go on. 

" 'Vathek' was another of the tales I had 
" a very early admiration of. You may re- 
" member a passage I borrowed from it in 
" ' The Siege of Corinth,' which I almost took 
" verbatim.* No Frenchman will believe that 



* " There is a light cloud by the moon ; 
'Tis passing, and will pass full soon. 
If by the time its vapoury sail 
Hath ceased the shaded orb to veil. 
Thy heart within thee is not changed. 
Then God and man are both avenged, — 
Dark will thy doom be — darker still 
Thine immortality of ill." 

Siege of Corinth. 



328 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" ' Vathek ' is the work of a foreigner. It 
" was written at seventeen. AVhat do you 
" think of the Cave of Ebhs, and the picture 
" of Ebiis himself? There is poetry. I class 
" it in merit with (though it is a different 
" sort of thing from) ' Paul and Virginia,' and 
" Mackenzie's * Man of Feeling,' and * La 
'* Roche ' in the * Mirror.' 

' Werner ' was written in twenty-eight days, 
and one entire act at a sitting. The MS. had 
scarcely an alteration in it for pages together. 
I remember retaining in my memory one pas- 
sage, which he repeated to me, and which I 
consider quite Shakspearian. 

" Four 
Five— six hours I have counted, like the guard 
Of outposts, on the never-merry clock, — 
That hollow tongue of time, which, even when 
It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoyment 
With every clang. 'Tis a perpetual knell, 
Though for a marriage-feast it rings : each stroke 



LORD BYRON. 329 

Peals for a hope the less ; the funeral note 
Of love deep buried without resurrection 
In the grave of possession ; whilst the knoll 
Of long-lived parents finds a jovial echo 
To triple time in the son's ear." 

" What can be expected,'' said I to him^ 
from a five act play, finished in four weeks ?" 

" I mean to dedicate ' Werner,' " said he, 
'' to Goethe. I look upon him as the greatest 
" genius that the age has produced. I desired 
" Murray to inscribe his name to a former 
" work ; but he pretends my letter containing 
" the order came too late. — It would have been 
** more worthy of him than this." 



'^ I have a great curiosity about every thing 
" relating to Goethe, and please myself with 
" thinking there is some analogy between our 
" characters and writings. So much interest do 



330 CONVEKSATIONS OF 

" I take in him, that I offered to give 100/. to 
*' any person who would translate his ' Me- 
" moirs/ for my own reading * Shelley has 
" sometimes explained part of them to me, 
" He seems to be very superstitious, and is a 
" believer in astrology, — or rather was, for he 
*• was very young when he wrote the first pajrt 
*' of his Life. 1 would give the world to read 
" ' Faust ' in the original. I have been urging 
*• Shelley to translate it ; but he said that the 
*' translator of * Wallenstein ' was the only per- 
" son living who could venture to attempt it ; — 
" that he had written to Coleridge, but in vain. 
*' For a man to translate it, lie must think as 
" he does." 

" Ho^^ do you explain," said I, "the first 
line, — 

' The sun thunders through the sky "* ? " 



* An English translation of this interesting work has 
lately appeared, in 2 vols. 8vo. 



LOUD BYIiOI^I. 331 

" He speaks of the music of the spheres in 
*^ Heayen," said he, " where, as in Job, the first 
" scene is laid. 



" Since you left us," said Lord Bjnron, " I 
" have seen Hobhouse for a few days. Hob- 
" house is the oldest and the best friend I have. 
" What scenes we have witnessed together ! 
" Our friendship began at Cambridge. We led 
" the same sort of life in town, and travelled in 
"company a great part of the years 1809, 10, 
" and 11. He was present at my marriage, 
" and was with me in 1816, after my separa- 
" tion. We were at Venice, and visited Rome 
"together in 1817. The greater part of my 
" * Childe Harold ' was composed when we were 
" together, and I could do no less in gratitude 
" than dedicate the complete poem to him. 
" The First Canto was inscribed to one of the 
" most beautiful little creatures I ever saw, then 
" a mere child: Lady Charlotte Harley was my 
" Ian the. 



332 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Hobhouse's Dissertation on Italian litera- 
" ture is much superior to liis Notes on 
" ' Childe Harold.' Perhaps he understood 
" the antiquities better than Nibbi, or any 
" of the Cicerones ; but the knowledge is some- 
" what misplaced where it is. Shelley went 
" to the opposite extreme, and never made any 
" notes. 

" Hobhouse has an excellent heart : he fainted 
" when he heard a false report of my death in 
" Greece, and was wonderfully affected at that 
" of Matthews — a much more able man than 
" the Invalid, You have often heard me speak 
" of him. The tribute I paid to his memory 
" was a very inadequate one, and ill expressed 
" what I felt at his loss." 



It may be asked rvhcn Lord Byron writes. 
The same cpiestion was put to Madame de 
Stael : " Vous nc cowptez pas sar ma chaisc-a- 



I 



LOUD BYRON. 333 

forieursr said she. I am often with him from 
the time he gets up till two or three o'clock in 
the morning, and after sitting up so late he 
must require rest; but he produces, the next 
morning, proofs that he has not been idle. 
Sometimes when I call, I find him at his desk ; 
but he either talks as he writes, or lays down 
his pen to play at billiards till it is time to take 
his airing. He seems to be able to resume the 
thread of his subject at aU times, and to weave 
it of an equal texture. Such talent is that of 
an im'provisatore. The fairness too of his ma- 
nuscripts (I do not speak of the hand- writing) 
astonishes no less than the perfection of every 
thing he writes. He hardly ever alters a word 
for whole pages, and never corrects a line in 
subsequent editions. I do not believe that he 
has ever read his works over since he examined 
the proof-sheets ; and yet he remembers every 
word of them, and every thing else worth re- 
membering that he has ever known. 



334 CONVERSATIONS OF 

I never met with any man who shines so 
much in conversation. He shines the more, 
perhaps, for not seeking to shine. His ideas 
flow without effort, without his having occasion 
to think. As in his letters, he is not nice 
about expressions or words ; — there ai*e no con- 
cealments in him, no injunctions to secresy. 
^ He tells every thing that he has thought or 
done without the least reserve, and as if he 
wished the whole world to know it ; and does 
not throw the slightest gloss over his errors. 
Brief himself, he is impatient of diffuseness in 
others, hates long stories, and seldom repeats 
his own. If he has heard a story you are tell- 
ing, he will say, " You told me that," and with 
good humour sometimes finish it for you him- 
self. 

He hates argiunent, and never argues for 
victory. He gives every one an opportunity of 
sharing in the conversation, and has the art of 
turning it to subjects that may bring out the 






LORD BYRON. 335 

person with whom he converses. He never 
shews the author, prides himself most on being 
a man of the world and of fashion, and his 
anecdotes of life and living characters are inex- 
haustible. In spirits, as in every thing else, he 
is ever in extremes. 

Miserly in trifles — about to lavish his whole 
fortune on the Greeks ; to-day diminishing his 
stud — to-morrow taking a large family under 
his roof, or giving 1000/. for a yacht ;^ dining 
for a few Pauls when alone— spending hun- 
dreds when he has friends. *' Nil fuit unquam 
sic impar sibi" 



I am sorry to find that he has become more 
indolent. He has almost discontinued his rides 



* He sold it for 300/. and refused to give the sailors 
tlieir jackets ; and offered once to bet Hay that he would 
live on 60/. a-year. 



336 CONVERSATIONS OF 

on horseback, and has starved himself into an 
unnatural thinness ; and his digestion is become 
weaker. In order to keep up the stamina that 
he requires, he indulges somewhat too freely in 
wine, and in his favourite beverage, Hollands, 
of which he now drinks a pint ahnost every 
night. 

He said to me humorously enough — 

" Why don't you drink, Medwin ? Gin-and- 
*' water is the source of all my inspiration. If 
" you were to drink as mucli as I do, you 
** would write as good verses : depend on it, it 
" is the true Hippocrene." 



On the 28 th of August I parted from Lord 
Byron with increased regret, and a sadness that 
looked like presentiment. He was preparing 
for his journey to Genoa, whither he went a 
few days after my departure. I shaU, I hope, be 



LORD BYRON. 337 

excused iii presenting the public with the fol- 
lowing sketch of his character, drawn and sent 
to a friend a few weeks after his death, and to 
which I adapted the following motto :* 

A(TTr]p irpiv jU£v eXajuireg evi ^MOLaiv Ewoc, 
Nuv §e Oav(ji)v \afX7ruq E(T7r£poc: £v ^Qif^itvoiq, 

" Born an aristocrat, I am naturally one by 
" temper," said Lord Byron. Many of the 
lines in ' The Hours of Idleness,' particularly 



* The following passage in an unpublished life of Al- 
fieri, which I lately met with^ might not inaptly be ap- 
plied to Lord Byron : 

'^'"Des son enfance tous les symptomes d'un caractere fier, 
indomtable et melancolique se manifesterent. Taciturne 
et tranquille a I'ordinaire, mais quelquefois tres babillard, 
tres vif, et presque toujours dans les extremes — obstine et 
rebelle a la force, tres soumis aux avis donnes par amitie ; 
contenu plutot par la crainte d'etre gronde, que par toute 
autre chose ; inflexible quand on voudroit le prendre a re- 
bours ; — tel fut-il dans ses jeunes annees." 

Z 



3'6S CONVERSATIONS OF 

the Farewell to Newstead, shew that in early 
Ufe he piided himself much on his ancestors : 
but it is their exploits that he celebrates ; and 
when he mentioned his having had his pennant 
hauled down, he said they might have respect- 
ed a descendant of the great navigator. Almost 
from infancy he shewed an independence of 
character, which a long minority and a mater- 
nal education contributed to encourage. His 
temper was quick, but he never long retained 
anger. Impatient of control, he was too proud 
to justify himself when right, or if accused, to 
own himself wrong ; yet no man was more un- 
opiniated, more open to conviction, and more 
accessible to advice,'^ when he knew that it pro- 



* '*■ Perhaps of all liis friciids Sir Walter Scott had the 
most influence over him. The sight of liis liand-writing, 
he said, put him in spirits for the diiy. Shelley's disap- 
probation of a poem caused him to destroy it. In com- 
pliance with the wishes of the pu])lic, lie relinquished tln> 



LORD EYRON. 339 

ceeded from friendship, or was motived by af- 
fection or regard. 

'* Though opposed to the foreign policy of 
England, he was no revolutionist. The best 
proof of his prizing the constitution of his own 
country, was that he wished to see it trans- 
planted on the Continent, and over the world ; 
and his first and last aspirations were for Greece, 
her liberty and independence. 

" Like Petrarch, disappointed love, perhaps, 
made him a poet. You knov/ my enthusiasm 
about him. I consider him in poetry what Mi- 
chael Angelo was in painting : he aimed at 
sublimity and effect, rather than the finishing 



drama. Disown it as lie may, he is ambitious of fame, 
and almost as sensitive as Voltaire or Rousseau : even tiie 
gossip of this little town annoys him. " 

Extract from a Letter to a friend, writ lea at Pirn. ' 

z 2 



340 CONVERSATIONS OF 

of his pictures ; he flatters the vanity of his ad- 
mirers by leaving them something to fill up. If 
the eagle flights of his genius cannot always be 
foUowed by the eye, it is the fault of our weak 
vision and limited optics. It requires a mind 
particularly organized to dive into and sound 
the depths of his metaphysics. What I admire 
is the hardihood of his ideas — the sense of 
power that distinguishes his writings from all 
others. He told me that, when he wrote, he 
neither knew nor cared what was coming next * 
This is the real inspiration of the poet. 

" Which is the finest of his works ? — It is a 
question I have often heard discussed. I have 
been present when ' Childe Harold,' * Manfred,' 
' Cain,' ' The Corsair,' and even * Don Juan,' 

* «' But, note or text, 



I never know the word whicli will come next." 

Doti Juan, Canto IX. Stanza 41 



LORD BYRON. 341 

were named ; — a proof, at least, of the versa- 
tility of his powers, and that he succeeded in 
many styles of writing. But I do not mean to 
canvass the merits of these works ;— a work on 
his poetical character and writings is already 
before the public* 

'* Lord Byron's has been called the Satanic 
school of poetry. It is a name that never has 
stuck, and never will stick, but among a 
faction. 

" To superficial or prejudiced readers he 
appeared to confound virtue and vice ; but if 
the shafts of his ridicule fell on mankind in ge- 
neral, they were only levelled against the hypo- 
critical cant, the petty interests, and despicable 
cabals and intrigues of the age. No man re- 
spected more the liberty from which the social 



* I alluded to Sir E. Brydges' Letters. 



o42 CONY L:1{ SAT IONS OF 

virtues emanate. No \M'itings ever tended 
more to exalt and ennoble the dignity of man 
and of luiman nature. A generous action, the 
memory of patriotism, self-sacrifice, or disinte- 
restedness, inspired him with the sublimest 
emotions, and the most glowing thoughts and 
images to express them ; and his indignation at 
tyranny, vice, or corruption, fell like a bolt from 
Heaven on the guilty. We need look no fur- 
ther for the cause of the hate, private and poli- 
tical, with which he has been assailed. But 
* in defiance of pohtics, — in defiance of per- 
sonaUty, — ^his strength rose with oppression ; 
and laughing his opponents to scorn, he forced 
the applause he disdained to solicit.' 

*' That he was not perfect, who can deny? 
But how many men are better ? — how few 
have done more good, less evil, in their day ? 

* Bright, brave, and glorious ^vas liis young career !' 



LOUD BYRON. 343 

And on his tomb may be inscribed, as is on that 
of Raleigh — 

' Reader ! should you reflect on his errors, 
Remember his many virtues. 
And that he was a mortal ! ' " 



The high admiration in which Lord Byron 
was held in Germany may be appreciated by 
the following communication, and tribute to his 
memory, which I have just received from the 
illustrious and venerable Goethe, who, at the 
advanced age of seventy-five, retains all the 
warmth of his feelings, and fire of his immortal 
genius. 

Weimar, \6th July, 1824. 

" It is thought desirable that I should give 
some details relative to the intercourse that ex- 
isted between Lord Noel Byron, alas ! now no 
more ! and myself : a i^w words will suffice for 
this object. 



344 CONVERSATIONS OF 

" Up to the tune of my present advanced 
age, I have hajjitiiated myself to weigh with 
care and impartiality the merit of illustrious 
persons of my own time generally, as well as 
of my immediate contemporaries, from the con- 
sideration that it would prove a sure means of 
advancing myself in knowledge. I might well 
fix my attention on Lord Byron ; and, having 
watched the dawn of his early and great talents, 
I could hardly fail to follow theu* progress 
through his important and uninteiTupted career. 

" It was easy to observe that the estimate 
of his poetical talent by the public increased 
progressively with the advancing perfection of 
his w^orks, which so rapidly succeeded each 
other. The interest wliicli they excited had 
been productive of more unmingled delight to 
his friends, if self-dissatisfaction and the rest- 
lessness of his passions had not in some mea- 
sure counteracted the power of a most compre- 



LORD BYUON. 345 

hensive and sublime imagination, and thrown 
a blight over an existence which the nobleness 
of his nature gave him a more than common 
capacity for enjoying. 

" Not permitting myself to come to a hasty 
and erroneous conclusion respecting him, I 
continued to trace, with undiminished atten- 
tion, a life and a poetical activity alike rare 
and irreconcileable, which interested me the 
more forcibly, inasmuch ,as I could discover 
no parallel in past ages with which to com- 
pare them, and found myself utterly desti- 
tute of the elements necessary for calculat- 
ing the movement of an orb so eccentric in 
its course. 

" In the mean while, neither myself nor my 
occupations remained unknown or unnoticed 
by the English poet, who not only furnished 
unequivocal proofs of an acquaintance with my 



346 CONVERSATIONS OF 

works, but conveyed to me, through the me- 
dium of travellers, more than one Mendly 
salutation . 

" Thus I was agreeably surprised by indi- 
rectly receiving the original sheet of a dedica- 
tion of the tragedy of * Sardanapalus,' con- 
ceived in terms the most honourable to me, 
and accompanied by a request tliat it might 
be printed at the head of the work. 

" Well knowing myself and my labours, in 
my old age, I could not but reflect with grati- 
tude and diffidence on tlie expressions contained 
in this dedication, nor interpret them but as 
the generous tribute of a sui)erior genius, no 
less original in the choice tlian inexliaustible in 
the materials of his subjects. I felt no disap- 
pointment when, after many delays, * Sardana- 
palus ' apjicared ^^'ithout the preface : for I 
already thought myself fortunate in possessing 



LORD BYEOK. 347 

a fac-simile in autograph, and attached to it 
no ordinary value. 

" It appeared, however, that the Noble Lord 
had not renounced his project of shewing his 
contemporary and companion in letters a strik- 
ing testimony of his friendly intentions, of 
which the tragedy of * Werner' contains pre- 
cious evidence. 

" It might naturally be expected that the 
aged German poet, after receiving a kindness 
unhoped for, from so celebrated a person, (proof 
of a disposition thoroughly generous, and the 
more to be prized from its rarity in the world,) 
should also prepare, on his part, to express most 
clearly and forcibly a sense of the gratitude and 
esteem with which he was affected. 

" But this task was great, and every day 
seemed to make it more difficult, — ^for what 



348 CONVERSATIONS OF 

could be said of an earthly being \\'hose nient 
was not to be conceived in thought, or expressed 
in words ? 

"But when, in the sjuing of 1823, Mr. 
S , a young man of amiable and en- 
gaging manners, brought direct from Genoa to 
Weimar a few words under the hand of this es- 
timable friend, by way of recommendation, and 
when shortly after a report was spread that the 
Noble Lord was about to consecrate his great 
powers and varied talents to high and perilous 
enterpiize, I had no longer a plea for delay, and 
addressed to bun the following hasty stanzas : 

' One friendly word conies fast upon anotlier 

From the warm South, bringing communion sweet, — 

Calling us amid noblest thoughts to wander 
Free in our souls, though fetter 'd in our feet. 

How shall I, who so long his bright path traced, 
Say to him words of love sent from afar ? — 

To him who with his iimiost heart hath struggled. 
Long wont with fate and deepest woes to ^v;ir P 



LORD BYRON. 349 

May he be happy \—tkus himself esteeming, 
He well might count himself a favour'd one ! 

By his loved Muses all his sorrows banish' d. 

And he self-known, — e'en as to me he 's known ! ' 

" These lines arrived at Genoa, but found 
him not. My excellent friend had already- 
sailed ; but, being driven back by contrary 
winds, he landed at Leghorn, where this eiFu- 
sion of my heart reached him. On the eve 
of his departure, July 23d, 1823, he found 
time to send me a reply, full of the most beau- 
tiful ideas and the noblest sentiments, which 
will be treasured as an invaluable testimony of 
worth and friendship among the choicest docu- 
ments which I possess. 

" What emotions of hope and joy did not 
that paper once excite ! — now it has become, 
by the premature death of the noble writer, 
an inestimable relic — a source of unspeakable 
regret ; for it increases in me particularly, to 



350 coNvi:usArioxs of 

no small degi'ee, that mourning and melancholy 
which pervade the whole nioial and poetical 
world, — in me, who look forward (after the 
success of his great efforts) to the ])rospect of 
being blessed with the sight of this master- 
spirit of the age, — this friend so fortunately 
acquired ; and of having to welcome, on his 
return, the most humane of conquerors. 

" Yet I am consoled by the conviction, that 
his country will instantly awake, and shake 
off, like a troubled dream, the partialities, the 
prejudices, the injuries, and the calumnies 
with which he has been assailed, — causing 
them to subside and sink into oblivion, — that 
she will at length universally acknowledge that 
Iiis frailties, whether the consequence of tem- 
perament, or the defect of the times in wliich 
he lived, (against which even the best of mor- 
tals wrestle ])ainfully,) were fleeting and tran- 
sitory ; whilst tlie imj)erishable greatness to 



LORD BYRON. 351 

which he has raised her name now remains, 
and will for ever remain, boundless in its glory, 
and incalculable in its consequences. There is 
no doubt that a nation so justly proud of 
her many great sons, will place Byeon, all 
radiant as he is, by the side of those who 
have conferred on her the highest honour. 



APPENDIX, 



3 A 



IV APPENDIX. 

lo seguirono. Passati innanzi a costui, ognuno 
s' arresto, e Milord lo richiese perche avesse fatto 
queir insulto. L' Ussero, per prima e tutta ris- 
posta, comincio a gridare con urli, con bestenimie, 
e con parole ingiuriose. Allora il nobile Lord ed 
un altro suo compagno gli presentarono un bigli- 
etto, dov' era scritto il suo nome e la sua direzione. 
Quegli seguito, gridando e minacciando che poteva 
trar la sciabola ; che 1' avrebbe ben tirata, ed an- 
che vi pose la mano. 

Erano prossimi di dieci passi alia porta. In 
mezzo all' alterco si meschio un semplice soldato 
in uniforme, credesi, da Cannoniere ; e grido 
aU' Ussero, " Comanda alia guardia della porta 
— arrestateli, arrestateli" — e sempre con modi e 
con parole le \n\\ villane e le piii insultanti. 

Cio udendo il nobile Lord, s})inse il suo cavaUo, 
e un suo comi)agno di seguito, e in mezzo alle 
guardie che mettevano mano ai fucili e baionctte, 



RAPPORTO. V 

gli riusci di varcare la porta e prendere la Strada 
del Corso verso Casa Lanfranchi. Gli altri tre 
col corriere Yenivan dietro, aUorche il Signor 
Trelawney, che era il primo, si trovo il cavallo 
afFerrato alia briglia da diie soldati con le spade 
sguainate, e assalito forsennatamente da quell' Us- 
sero che gli scaglio molti colpi di sciabola, men tre 
quel soldati lo percuottevano suUa coscia. Egli e 
i suoi compagni erano tutti inermi, e chiedevano 
a quel furibondo ragione di una tale infame con- 
dotta. Ma egli rispondeva con i colpi. II Signor 
Shelley s' interpose per farsi scudo all' amico, e 
fu percosso gravemente sul capo col porno della 
sciabola, per cui cadde rovesciato da cavallo. II 
Capitano Hay voile pure parare un colpo al com- 
pagno con un bastoncello che aveva ad uso di 
fouSt, ma il colpo taglio il bastone e giunse a 
ferirlo sul naso. II corriere fu an che mal concio 
con molte percosse dairUssero e dagF altri sol- 
dati — Dopo cio r Ussero sprono il cavallo e prese 
la via di Lung' Arno. 



A.V.- 



VI APPENDIX. 

II nobile Lord giunto a casa, fece ordinare al 
suo segretario che cori'esse subito a dai' conto di 
cio alia Polizia ; poscia, non vedendo i compagni, 
tomo verso la porta, e per via incontro 1' Ussero 
che gli si indrizzo dicendo, " Siete voi soddisfatti ?" 
II nobile Lord come che ignaro della zuff'a acca- 
duta sotto la poita, gli rispose " Non sono soddis- 
fatto — ditemi il vostro nome." Costiii rispose, 
" Masi, Sergente Maggiore." Un servo di Milord 
giunse in quell' istante dal Palazzo, e aff'erro la 
briglia al cavallo del Sergente. Milord gli co- 
mando di lasciarlo. II Sergente allora sprono il 
cavaUo e si lancio Lung' Amo, in mezzo ad 
un' immensa folia che innanzi al Palazzo Lan- 
franchi erasi adunata. Ivi, come ci si riporto, fu 
ferito; ma noi ignoriamo come e da chi, poiche 
ognuno di noi trovavasi o in casa o indietro. So- 
lamente fu recato in casa di Milord il ho)iml di 
(juesto Sergente. 

E da notare inoltre, clie il Capitano Hay si 



RAPPORT O. Vll 

trova confinato in casa per la ferita ricevuta, e che 
il corriere ha sputato sangue per i colpi avuti nel 
petto, come si puo assicurare dalla relazione dei 
Chirurghi. 

Questo e il rapporto preciso di cio che e passato 
fra noi e il Sergente Maggiore Masi, coi soldati, 
&c. In fede di che noi sottoscritti comproviamo, 
&c. &c. 

(Signed) Noel Byron. 
H. Hay. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley. 
Edward Trelawney, 
Count Pietro Gamba. 

Pisa, 25 Marzo, 1822. 



vm APPENDIX. 



SECONDO RAPPORTO. 



lo osservai Lord Byron venir Domenica sera 
cavalcando Lung' Arno verso la sua casa, e appena 
giuntovi ritornare senza esser smontato : poscia 
dirimpetto alia Chiesa di S. Matteo incontro un 
Dragone, col quale cavalco lungo la strada. Lord 
Byron aveva in mano una canna. II Dragone 
minaccio di trarre la sciabola. Giunti sotto le 
nostre finestre, Lord Byron stese la mano al Dra- 
gone, e gli domando il nome e 1' indirizzo suo. 
Vennero stringendosi le mani per pochi passi, 
quando uno dei domestic! di Lord Byron s' intro- 
mise e respinse il Dragone dal suo padrone. II 
Dragone aUora sprono al galoppo, e traversando 
innanzi alia casa di Lord Byron fu ferito sul 
destro fianco da un bastone lungo sei piedi circa, 



SECONDO RAPPORTO. 



IX 



che quasi lo rovescio dal cavallo. In quell' istante 
Lord Byron e il suo domestico si trovavano ad 
una considerabile distanza dal Dragone. 

(Signed) Giacomo Crawfoed, Inglese, 

Casa Remediotti, No. 666, Lung' Arno. 

Pisa, 27 Marzo, 1822. 



3 B 



APPENDIX. 



GOETHE'S BEITRAG ZUM ANDENKEN 
LORD BYRON'S. 



Man hat gewiinscht einige Nachrichten von 
dem Verhaltnis zu erlangen, welches zwischen 
dem, leider zu friih abgeschiedenen Lord Noel 
Byron und Herrn von Goethe bestanden ; hier- 
von ware kiirzlich soviel zu sagen. 

Der deutsche Dichter, bis ins hohe Alter be- 
miiht die Verdienste friiherer und mitlebender 
Manner sorgfaltig und rein anzuerkennen, indem 
er dies als das sicherste Mittel eigener Bildung 
von jeher betrachtete, musste wohl auch auf das 
gi'osse Talent des Lords, bald nach dessen erstem 
Erscheinen aufnierksam werden, wie er denn auch 
die Fortschntte jener bedeutenden Leistungen 
und eines uiuuiterbrochenen Wirkens unablassig 
begleitete. 



Goethe's beitrag, &a xi 

Hierbey war denn leicht zu bemerken, dass 
die allgemeine Anerkennung des dichterischen 
Verdienstes mit Vermehrung und Steigerung 
rasch auf einander folgender Productionen in 
gleichem Maase fortwuchs. Auch ware die dies- 
seitige frohe Theilnahme hieran, horhst vollkom- 
men gewesen, hatte nicht der gem* ale Dichter eine 
leidenschaftlicke Lebensweise, durch inneres Mis- 
behagen und ein so geistreiches als granzenloses 
Hervorbringen sich selbst und seinen Freunden 
den reizenden Genuss an seinem hohen Daseyn 
einigermassen verkiimmert. 

Der deutsche Bewunderer jedoch, hiedurch 
nicht geirrt, folgte mit Aufmerksamkeit einem so 
seltenen Leben und Dichten in aller seiner Excen- 
tricitat, die freilich um desto aufFallender seyn 
muste, als ihres Gleichen in vergangenen Jahr- 
hunderten nicht wohl zu entdecken gewesen und 
uns die Elemente zu Berechnung einer solchen 
Bahn voljig abgingen. 

3 B 2 



XU APPENDIX. 

Indesseii waren die Beiniilnuigen des Deiit- 
schen dcin Eiiglander iiicht unbekaniit geblieben, 
der daron in seinen Gedichten unzweirdeiitige 
Bevveise darlegte, nicht weniger sich durch Rei- 
sende init nianchein freundlichen Gruss verneh- 
inen lies. 

Sodann aber folgte, iiberraschend, gleichfals 
durch Vermittelung, das Original — Blatt einer 
Dedication des Trauerspiels Sardanapalus in den 
ehrenreichsten Ausdriicken und mit der freund- 
lichen Anfrage, ob solche gedachtem Stiick vor- 
gedruckt werden konnte. ^ 

Der Deutsche, niit sich ,_j^lbst und seinen 
Leistungen im hohen Alter v^^ohlbekannte Dich- 
ter durfte den Inhalt jener Widmung nur als 
Aeusserung eines trefflichen, hochfiihlenden, sich 
selbst seine Gegenstande schafTenden, unerschop- 
flichen Geistes mit Dank und Bescheidenheid 
betrachten ; auch fiihlt€ er sich nicht unzufrieden, 



ooethe's beitrag, &c. xiii 

als, bei mancherley Verspatung, Sardanapal ohne 
ein solches Vorwort gedruckt wurde und fand 
sich schon gl iicklich im Besitz eines lithographir- 
ten Fac simile, zii hochst werthem Andenken. 

Doch gab der edle Lord seinen Vorsatz nicht 
auf, dem deutschen Zeit-und Geist Genossen eine 
bedeutende Freundlichkeit zu erweisen ; wie denn 
das Trauerspiel Werner ein hochst schatzbares 
Denkmal an der Stirne fiihrt, 

Hiernach wird man denn wohl dem deutschen 
Dichtergreise zutranen, dass er einen so griind- 
lich guten Willen, welcher uns auf dieser Erde 
selten begegnet, von einem so hoch gefeyerten 
Manne ganz unverhofFt erfahrend, sich gleichfals 
bereitete mit Klarheit und Kraft auszusprechen, 
von welcher Hochachtung er fiir seinen uniiber- 
troffenen Zeitgenossen durchdrungen, von wel- 
chem theilnehmenden Gefiihl fiir ihn er belebt 
sey. Aber die Aufgabe fand sich so gross, und 



XIV APPENDIX. 

erschien immer grosser, jemehr man ihr naher 
trat ; denn was soil man von einem Erdgebornen 
sagen, dessen Verdienste durch Betrachtung und 
Wort nicht zo erschopfen sind ? 

Als daher ein junger Mann, HeiT Sterling, 
augenehm von Person und rein von Sitten, im 
Fnihjahr 1823, seinen Weg von Genua gerade 
nach Weimar nahm, und auf einem kleinen 
Blatte wenig eigenhiindige Worte des verehiten 
Mannes als Empfehlung iiberbrachte, als nun bald 
darauf das Gerdcht verlautete, der Lord werde 
seinen grossen Sinn, seine manigfaltigen Krafte, 
an erhabengefahrliche Thaten iiber Meer ver- 
wenden, da war nicht langer zu zaudern imd 
eiUg nachstehendes Gedicht geschrieben : 

Ein freundlich Wort kommt eines nach dem andem. 
Von Siiden her und bringt uns frohe Stunden ; 

Es ruft uns auf zum E dels ten zu wan dem, 
Nicht ist der Geist, doch ist der Fuss gebunden. 



Goethe's BEiTRAG, &c. xv 

Wie soil ich dem, den ich so lang' begleitet 
Nun etwas Traulich's in die Feme sagen ? 

Ihm, der sich selbst im Innersten bestreitet, 
Stark angewohnt, das tiefste Weh zutragen. 

Wohl sey ihm ! doch wenn er sich selbst empfiiidet, 
Er wage selbst sich hoch begliickt zu nennen, 

Wenn Musenkraft die Schmerzen iiberwindet, 
Und wie ich ihn erkannt, mog' er sich kennen. 

Weimar, den 22 Juni/, 1823. 

Es gelangte nach Genua, fand in aber nicht 
mehr daselbst, schon war der trefliche Freund 
abgesegelt und schien einem jeden schon weit 
entfernt ; durch Stiirme jedoch zuriickgehalten, 
landete er in Livorno, wo ihn das herzlich gesen- 
dete gerade noch traf, uni es im Augenblicke 
seiner Abfahrt, den 24 July, 1823, mit einein 
reinen, schon-gefiihlten Blatt erwiedern zu kon- 
nen; als werthestes Zeugnis eines wiirdigen Ver- 



XVI APPENDIX. 

haltnisses unter den kostbarsten Docuinenten voni 
Besitzer auf zubewahren. 

So sehr uns riuii ein solches Blatt erfreuen und 
riihren und zii der schonsten Lebenshoftnung 
aufi'egen musste, so crhalt es gegenwiirtig diu'ch 
das unzeitige Ableben des hohen Schreibenden 
den grossten schmerzlichsten Werth, indem es 
die algemeine Trailer der Sitten — und Dichter- 
welt iiber seinen Verlust, fiir uns leider ganz 
insbesondere, scharft, die wir nach vollbracbtem 
grossen Bemiihen hoffen durften den vorziiglich- 
sten Geist, den gliicklich erworbenen Freund und 
zugleich den menschlichsten Sieger, persbnlich zu 
begiiissen . 

Nun aber crhel)t uns die Ueberzeugung, dass 
seine Nation, a us dem, theilweise gegen ihn auf- 
brausenden, tadelnden, scheltenden Taumel plotz- 
lich zur Nucliteraheit erwachen und algemein 
begixifcn werde, dass alle Schaalen und Schlacken 



Goethe's beitrag, &c. xvii 

der Zeit und des Individuums, durch welche sich 
auch der beste hindurch und heraus zu arbeiten 
hat, nur augenblicklich, verg'anglich und hinfallig 
gewesen, wogegen der staunungswiirdige Rubm, 
zo dem er sein Vaterland fiir ietzt und kiinftig 
erhebt, in seiner Herrlichkeit granzenlos und in 
seinen Folgen unberechenbar bleibt. Gewiss, 
diese Nation, die sicb so vieler grosser Namen 
riihmen darf, wird ihn verkl'art zu denjenigen 
stetten, durch die sie sich immerfort selbst zu 
ehren hat. 



XVlll APPENDIX. 



[In the absence of the Author, who is in Swit- 
zerland, the London Editor has ventured to add 
a few Documents, which he trusts will be consi- 
dered as a desirable Supplement. The following 
Letter in particular, relative to Lord Byron's 
great contemporary Su* Walter Scott, will no 
doubt be read with universal admiration :] 

To M. H. Beyle, 

Rue de Richelieu, Paris. 

Genoa, May 29, 1823. 
Sir, 

At present, that I know to whom 
I am indebted for a very flattering mention in the 
*' Rome, Naples, and Florence in 1817, by Mons. 
Stendhal," it is fit that I should return my thanks 
(however undesired or undesira])le) to Mons. Beyle, 
with whom I had the honour of being acquainted 
at Milan in 1816. You only did me too much 
honour in what you were pleased to say in that 
work ; but it has hardly given me less pleasure 
than the praise itself, to become at length aware 
(which I have done by mere accident) that I am 



LETTER, &C. xix 

indebted for it to one of whose good opinion I was 
really ambitious. So many changes have taken 
place since that period in the Milan circle, that I 
hardly dare recur to it ; — ^some dead, some banish- 
ed, and some in the Austrian dungeons. — Poor 
Pellico ! I trust that, in his iron solitude, his 
Muse is consoling him in part — one day to delight 
us again, when both she and her Poet are restored 
to freedom. 

Of your works I have only seen " Rome," &C.5 
the Lives of Haydn and Mozart, and the brochure 
on Racine and Shakspeare. The " Histoire de 
la Peinture" I have not yet the good fortune to 
possess. 

There is one part of your observations in the 
pamphlet which I shall venture to remark upon ; 
— it regards Walter Scott. You say that " his 
character is little worthy of enthusiasm," at the 
same time that you mention his productions in the 
manner they deserve. I have known Walter Scott 
long and well, and in occasional situations which 
call forth the real character — and I can assure 
you that his character is worthy of admiration — 
that of all men he is the most open, the most 
honourable, the most amiable. With his politics 
I have nothing to do: they differ from mine. 



XX APPENDIX. 

which renders it difficult for ine to speak of them. 
But he is perfectly sinceix in them ; and Sin- 
cerity may be humble, but she cannot be servile. 
I pray you, therefore, to correct or soften tliat 
passage. You may, perhaps, attribute this ofii- 
ciousness of mine to a false affectation of candour, 
as I happen to be a writer idso. Attribute it to 
what motive you please, but believe the trutJi. I 
say that Walter Scott is as nearly a thorough good 
man as man can ])e, l)ccause I Inioio it by ex- 
perience to be the case. 

If you do me the honour of an answer, may 
I request a speedy one? — because it is possible 
(though not yet decided) that circumstances may 
conduct me once more to Greece. My present 
address is Genoa, where an answer will reacli 
me in a short time, or be forwarded to me 
wherever I may be. 

I beg you to jjelieve me, with a lively re- 
collection of our brief acquaintance, and the hope 
of one day renewing it, 

Your ever obliged 

And obedient humble servant, 

(Signed) NOEL BYRON. 



( xxi ) 



SOME ACCOUNT 



OF 



LOUD BYRON'S RESIDENCE IN GREECE. 



[The Editor is indebted for the following in- 
teresting Account of Lord Byron's Residence in 
Greece, &c. to " The Westminster Review," a 
publication which has already justly acquired a 
high name in the periodical literature of England.] 



The motives which induced Lord Byron to leave 
Italy and join the Greeks struggling for emancipation 
from the yoke of their ignorant and cruel oppressors, 
are of so obvious a nature, that it is scarcely worth while 
to allude to them. It was in Greece that his high poeti- 
cal faculties had been first most powerfully developed ; 
and they who know the delight attendant, even in a 
very inferior degree, upon this intellectual process, will 
know how to appreciate the tender associations which, 



XXU APPENDIX. 

" soft as the memory of buried love,'' cling to the scenes 
and the persons that have first stimulated the dormant 
genius. Greece, a land of the most venerable and illus- 
trious history, of a peculiarly grand and beautiful sce- 
nery, inhabited by various races of the most wild and 
picturesque manners, was to him the land of excitement, 
— never-cloying, never-wearying, ever-changing excite- 
ment : — such must necessarily have been the chosen and 
favourite spot of a man of powerful and original intel- 
lect, of quick and sensible feelings, of a restless and 
untameable spirit, of warm affections, of various informa- 
tion, — and, above all, of one satiated and disgusted with 
the formality, hypocrisy, and sameness of daily hfe. 
Dwelling upon that country, as it is clear from all Lord 
Byron's writings he did, with the fondest solicitude, and 
being, as he was well known to be, an ardent though 
perhaps not a very systematic lover of freedom, we may 
be certain that he was no unconcerned spectator of its 
recent revolution : and as soon as it appeared to him that 
his presence might be useful, he prepared to visit once 
more the shores of Greece. The imagination of Lord 
Byron, however, was the subject and servant of his 
reason — in this instance he did not act, and perhaps 
nev^r did, under the influence of the delusions of a wild 
enthusiasm, by which poets, very erroneously as re- 
gards great }>oets, are supposed to be generally led. It 
was not until after very serious deliberation of the ad- 
vantages to be derived from this step, and after acqui)-- 
ing all |ws»iblc information on the subject, that he de- 



LOUD BYRON IN GUEECE. XXIU 

termined on it ; and in this as in every other act regard- 
ing this expedition, as we shall find, proved himself a 
wise and practical philanthropist. Like all men edu- 
cated as he had been, Lord Byron too often probably 
obeyed the dictates of impulse, and threw up the reins 
to passions which he had never been taught the neces- 
sity of governing; but the world are under a grievous 
mistake if they fancy that Lord Byron embarked for 
Greece with the ignorant ardour of a schoolboy, or the 
flighty fanaticism of a crusader. It appeared to him 
that there was a good chance of his being useful in 
a country which he loved — a field of honourable dis- 
tinction was open to him, and doubtless he expected 
to derive no mean gratification from witnessing so sin- 
gular and instructive a spectacle as the emancipation 
of Greece.— A glorious career apparently presented 
itself, and he determined to try the event. When he 
had made up his mind to leave Italy for Greece, he 
wrote from Genoa to one of his most intimate friends 
and constant companions, then at Rome, saying, 

'' T ', you must have heard I am going to Greece; why 

do you not come to me } I am at last determined — Greece 
is the only place I ever was contented in — I am serious — 
and did not write before, as I might have given you a journey 
for nothing. They all say I can be of great use in Greece ; 
I do not know how, nor do they, but at all events let us 
try !" 

He had, says this friend, who knew him well, become 
ambitious of a name as distinguished for deeds as it 



XXIV APPENDIX. 

was already by his writings. It was but a short time 
before his decease, that he composed one of the most 
beautiful and touching of his songs on his 36th birth- 
day, which remarkably proves the birth of this new pas- 
sion. One stanza runs as follows : 

If thou regret thy youth, why live ? 

The land of honourable death 
Is here — Up to the field, and give 

Away thy breath! — 
Awake not Greece — She is awake. 
Awake my spirit ! — 

Lord Byron embarked from Leghorn and arrived in 
Cephalonia in the early part of August, 1823, attended 
by a suite of six or seven friends, in an English vessel 
(the Hercules, Captain Scott), which he had hired for 
the express purpose of taking him to Greece. His 
Lordship had never seen any of the volcanic moun- 
tains, and for this purpose the vessel deviated from 
its regular course in order to pass the island of Strom- 
boli. The vessel lay off this place a whole night in 
the hopes of witnessing the usual phenomena, when, 
for the first time within the memory of man, the vol- 
cano emitted no fire — the disappointed poet was obhged 
to proceed in no good humour with the fabled forge 
of Vulcan. 

Lord Byron was an eajrer and constant observer of 
nature, and generally spent the principal part of the 
night in solitary contemplation of the objects that pre- 
sent themselves in a sea vovage : " For many a joy 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. XXV 

could he from night's soft presence glean."" He was 
far above any affectation of poetical ecstasy, but his 
whole works demonstrate the sincere delight he took in 
feeding his imagination with the glories of the mate- 
rial world. Marine imagery is more characteristic of 
his writings than those of any other poet, and it was to 
the Mediterranean and its sunny shores that he was in- 
debted for it all. . 

r As the stately vessel glided slow 



Beneath the shadow of that ancient mount. 

He watched the billows' melancholy flow. 

And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont, 

More placid seem'd his eye, and smooth his pallid front. 

It was a point of the greatest importance to deter- 
mine on the particular part of Greece to which his 
Lordship should direct his course — the country was 
afflicted by intestine divisions, and Lord Byron thought 
that if he wished to serve it, he must keep aloof from 
faction. The different parties had their different seats 
of influence, and to choose a residence, if not in fact, 
was in appearance to choose a party. In a country 
where communication is impeded by natural obstacles 
and unassisted by civilized regulations, which had 
scarcely succeeded in expelling a barbarian master, and 
where the clashing interests of contending factions often 
make it advantageous to conceal the truth, the extreme 
difficulty of procuring accurate information may be 
easily supposed. It, therefore, became necessary to 

3 C 



XXVI APPENDIX. 

make some stay in a place which might serve as a con- 
venient post of observation, and from which assistance 
could be rendered where it appeared to be most needed. 
Cephalonia was fixed upon ; where Lord Byron was 
extremely well received by the English civil and mih- 
tary authorities, who, generally speaking, seemed well 
inclined to further the objects of his visit to Greece. 
Anxious, however, to avoid involving the government 
of the island in any difficulty respecting himself, or 
for some other cause, he remained on board the vessel 
until further intelhgence could be procured. 

At the time of Lord Byron's arrival in the Ionian 
Islands, Greece, though even then an intelligent ob- 
server could scarcely entertain a doubt of her ultimate 
success, was in a most unsettled state. The third 
campaign had commenced, and had already been marked 
by several instances of distinguished success. Odys- 
seus and Nikctas had already effectually harassed and 
dispersed the two armies of YusufF Pasha, and Mus- 
tapha Pasha, who had entered Eastern Greece, by 
the passes of Thermopylae. Corinth, still held by the 
Turks, was reduced to the greatest extremities — and, 
indeed, surrendered in the course of the autumn. — The 
Morea might almost be vsaid to be thoroughly emanci- 
pated. Patras Modon, and Coron, and the Castle of 
the Morea, did then and still hold out against the com- 
bined assaults of famine and the troops of the besiegers. 
But the ancient Pel()]X)nncsus had, at this moment, 
more to fear from the dissensions of its chiefs, than the 



LORD BYKON IN GREECE. XXVll 

efforts of the enemy — they had absolutely assumed 
something like the character of a civil war. The gene- 
rals had been ordered on different services, when it 
appeared that the funds destined for the maintenance 
of their armies were already consumed in satisfying old 
demands for arrears. Much confusion arose, and a 
bloody conflict actually took place in the streets of Tri- 
politza, between a troop of Spartiates and another of 
Arcadians, the followers of rival leaders. The military 
chiefs, at the head of whom was the able bttt avaricious 
Colocotronis, at that time Vice-president of the Execu- 
tive Government, were jealous of the party which may 
be termed the civil faction. Over this party presided 
Mavrocordatos, who, as a Constantinopolitan, was con- 
sidered as a foreigner, and who, on account of his be- 
ing a dexterous diplomatist, a good letter-writer, and a 
lover of intrigue, was regarded with feelings of jealousy 
and hatred by the rude and iron-handed generals of the 
Morea. Mavrocordatos was Secretary for Foreign Af- 
fairs, and was accused of holding correspondence with 
foreign Courts without the knowledge of the Govern- 
ment, and of aiming at getting himself elected the Presi- 
dent of the Legislative Body. It turned out that the 
actual President fled from the seat of government, and 
that Mavrocordatos was elected into the office. He 
too was soon obliged to retreat, and had just resigned 
the office and retired to the island of Hydra, where 
the civil and commercial party was strong, and whea'e 

3C2 



XXVIU APPENDIX. 

he was held in considerable estuiiation, when Lord 
Byron arrived at Cej)hal()nia. 

At this moment, too, Western Greece was in a very 
critical situation — Mustapha, Pasha of Scutari, was ad- 
vancirig into Acarnania in laroe force, and was on the 
point of being resisted by the chivalrous devotion of 
the brave Marco liotzaris. This chief, worthy of the 
best days of Greece, succeeded on the 9th of August 
(O.S.) by his famous night-attack in cutting off a con- 
siderable part of the Turkish army, and fell a sacrifice 
to his generous efforts. In spite of this check, however, 
the Pasha advanced and proceeded towards Anatoli- 
con and Messolonghi ; the latter place was invested by 
Mustapha, and the Albanian chief, Omer-Vriones, by 
the early part of October. The Turkish fleet had ar- 
rived in the waters of Patras about the middle of June, 
and continued to blockade (at least nominally) Mes- 
solonglii, and all the other ]X)rts of Western Greece, 
up to the arrival of Lord Byron. 

Previous to Marco Botzari's arrival at Carpenissi, the 
little village where he discomfited the Turks, he had 
heard of liord Byron's arrival in Greece ; and it is not 
a little remarkable that the last act he did before pro- 
ceeding to the attack, was to write a warm invitation for 
his Loi'dship to come to Messolonghi, offering to leave 
the army, and to give him a ])ul)lic rtx;eption in a 
maimer suitable to the occasion and serviceable to th<' 
cause. 

To all who know tiie circumstances of that memo- 



I 



LOUD BYRON IN GREECE. XXIX 

rable battle and the character of this heroic man, this 
letter cannot fail to be interesting. We will translate 
the part which relates to Lord Byron. It is dated at 
the " piccolo villagio" of Carpenissi on the |g of August. 

'^ I am delighted/' he says to a friend in Cephalonia, 
^^ with your account of Lord Byron's disposition with re- 
spect to our country. The advice you have given his 
Lordship to direct his attention to Western Greece, has 
caused us the greatest satisfaction ; and I feel obliged by 
your continued exertions in the service of our country. I 
am not a little pleased at his Lordship's peculiar attention 
to my fellow-countrymen the Suliotes, on whom he has 
conferred the honour of selecting them for his guards. 
Avail yourself of this kindness of his Lordship, and per- 
suade him to come as speedily as possible to Messolonghi, 
where we will not fail to receive him with every mark of 
honour due to his person ; and as soon as I hear of his ar- 
rival, I will leave the army here and proceed to join him 
with a few companions. All will soon be right ; the disturb- 
ances in Roumelia are only temporary, and will be easily set- 
tled. I trust you are informed of all that has occurred here 
— that the Pacha of Scutari has advanced to Aspropotamos 
and Agrapha, and has penetrated to Carpenissi. We are 
going to meet him; we have possession of all the strong 
postSj and trust that the enemy will be properly resisted," 

Botzaris alludes to almost the first act of Lord Byron 
in Greece, which was the arming and provisioning of 
forty Suliotes whom he sent to join in the defence of 
Messolonghi. After the battle he transmitted bandages 
and medicines, of which he had brought a large store 



XXX APPENDIX. 

from Italy, and pecuniary succour to those who had I^een 
wounded in the battle. 

He had already made a very generous offer to the 
Government, to which he himself alludes, as well as to 
the dissensions in Greece, in a letter of which this is an 
extract : 

" I offered to advance a thousand dollars a month for the 
Kuccour of IMessolonghi, and the Suliotes under Botzaris 
(since kill'd) ; but the Government have answered me 

through of this island, that they wish to 

confer with me previously, w^hich is in fact saying they 
wish me to expend my money in some other direction. I 
will take care that it is for the public cause, otherwise I 
will not advance a para. Tlie opposition say they want to 
cajole me, and the party in power say the others wish to se- 
duce me; so between the two I have a difficult part to 
play : however, I will have nothing to do with the factions, 
unless to reconcile them, if possible " 

Though strongly solicited in the most flattering man- 
ner by Count Metaxa, the Exarch of Messolonghi, and 
others to repair to that place, Lord Byron liad too rea- 
sonable a fear of falling into the hands of a party to 
take a decided step in his present state of information.-^ 
He determined to communicate alone with tlie esta- 
blished Govcrmnent : for this purpose he despatched 
two of the friends who had accompanied him to Greece, 
Mr. Trela\vney and Mr. Hamilton Browne, in order to 
deliver a letter from him to the Government, and to col- 
lect intelligence respecting the real state of things. The 
extreme want of money which was at that time felt in 



I 



LORD BYliON IN GKEECE. XXXI 

Greece, and the knowledge that Lord Byron had brought 
large funds with the intention of devoting them to the 
cause, made all parties extremely eager for his presence. 
He, however, yielded to none of the pressing entreaties 
that were made to him ; but, after waiting undecided 
six weeks in his vessel, he took up his residence on 
shore. Avoiding the capital of Cephalonia he retired 
to the small village of Metaxata, within five or six 
miles of Argostoli, where he remained all the time he 
was on the island. It is difficult for one unacquainted 
with the European reputation of Lord Byron's writ- 
ings, and with the peculiar wants and the peculiar cha- 
racter of the Greeks, to conceive a just idea of the sensa- 
tion which his arrival created in Greece. It is impossi- 
ble to read the letters which were addressed to him at 
this time from every quarter, and not be struck with 
the glorious sphere of action which presented itself, and 
at the same time not proportionately lament the stroke 
which deprived the country of his assistance before he 
had comparatively eff*ected any thing of importance. 

Established at Metaxata as a convenient place' of 
observation, he resumed his usual occupations, while he 
kept a watchful eye on all the transactions of Greece, 
and carried on a very active intercourse with every part 
of it. Those who know Lord Byron's character, know 
that he rarely resisted the impulse of his feelings, and 
that fortunately these impulses were generally of the 
most benevolent kind. As usual, the neighbourhood 
of his residence never ceased to experience some kind 



XXXU APPENDIX. 

and munificent exertion of his luifailing, but by no 
means indiscriminate or ill applied, generosity. His 
pliysician says, that the day seemed sad and gloomy to 
him when he had not employed himself in some gene- 
rous exertion. He provided even in Greece for many 
Italian families in distress, and indulged the people of 
the country even in paying for the religious ceremonies 
which they deemed essential to their success. Our 
informant mentions one circumstance in particular which 
affords some idea of the way in which he loved to be of 
service. While at Metaxata, the fall of a large mass of 
earth had buried some persons alive. He heard of the 
accident while at dinner, and starting up from the ta- 
ble, ran to the spot accompanied by his physician, who 
took with him a sup})ly of medicines. The labourers, 
who were engaged in digging out their companions, 
soon became alarmed for themselves, and refused to 
go on, saying, they believed they had dug out all the 
bodies which had been covered by the ruins. Lord 
Byron endeavoured to induce them to continue their 
exertions; but finding menaces in vain, he seized a 
spade and began to dig most zealously : at length the 
peasantry joined him, and they succeeded in saving two 
more persons from certain death. 

It was to Metaxata tliat Dr. Kennedy, a methodistical 
physician then residing in Cephalonia, used to resort for 
the purpose of instilling the importance of religious me- 
ditation and certain scriptural truths into the mind of 
Lord Byron, who hiid the reputation of not holding them 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. XXXIU 

in sufficient reverence. These conferences, we are inform- 
ed by an auditor of them, if not of the most instructive, 
were yet of a very amusing kind. The Doctor, though 
he is said to be an able man in this his lay profession, 
seldom brought his arguments to bear upon his Lordship; 
who having the advantage in quickness of intellect, and 
often in the clearness of his logic, would frequently put 
Dr. Kennedy's ideas in disorder by a single vigorous on- 
set. Lord Byron shewed a most remarkable acquaint- 
ance with the Bible, and by his quotations, aptly applied 
to the question in dispute, very often brought his anta- 
gonist to a stand ; when, turning down the page, for he 
generally brought a little library of theology to the con- 
test, he would promise to return to the next meeting with 
a full and satisfactory answer to the argument. The 
disputes chiefly turned upon the questions which are 
agitated between the different sects of Christians in 
England ; and the audience do not seem to think that 
the Doctor had the advantage : he, however, flattered 
himself that he had made the desired impression; for 
we are informed that he afterwards made particular in- 
quiries of his Lordship's suite, into any change that 
might have taken place in his antagonist's manner of 
thinking and acting after he had left Cephalonia* It 
has been said, maliciously, we think, that Lord Byron 
merely entered into these discussions in order to master 
the cant of this religious sect, as it was his intention in 
some future Canto to make Don Juan a Methodist. 
This is a very gratuitous supposition. liOrd Byron 



XXXIV APPENDIX. 

had, when not irritated, the most courteous and affable 
manners ; he carried himself towards all who had access 
to him with the most scrupulous delicacy, and it was 
quite sufficient for Dr. Kennedy to desire these inter- 
views, to procure them. 

Although some ludicrous scenes occurred, the admo- 
nitory party was treated with the utmost kindness, and 
full credit given to him for the purity of his intentions. 

The two friends whom Lord Byron had despatched 
to the Government proceeded to the Morea, and crossed 
the country to Tripolitza, from which place it appeared 
that the two assemblies had removed to Salamis. At 
Tripolitza, however, they had an opportunity of seeing 
Colocotronis, some of the other distinguished chiefs, as 
well as the confidential officers of Mavrocordatos' suite, 
whom he had left behind him in his precipitate retreat 
from the chair of the legislative assembly. Here, con- 
sequently, they were able to collect a considerable quan- 
tity of information, and procure answers to the ques- 
tions with which Lord Byron had charged them ; after 
doing which, they proceeded onwards to the place where 
the assembly was collecting. The queries are of a very 
searching and judicious nature, and, like the other ex- 
tracts which we shall have to make from his correspon- 
dence, prove the aptitude of his intellect and the benevo- 
lence of his designs ; the answers to them, collected with 
considerable care and discrimination, were complete 
enough to afford a very acciu-ate idea of the state, re- 
sources, and intentions of the country. From the let- 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. XXXV 

ters also he would be able to form a good idea of the 
contending factions, and the men who headed them : — 
Colocotronis was found to be in great power ; his palace 
was filled with armed men, like the castle of some ancient 
feudal chief, and a good idea of his character may be 
formed from the language he held. He declared, that 
he had told Mavrocordatos, that unless he desisted from 
his intrigues, he would put him on an ass and whip him 
out of the Morea ; and that he had only been withheld 
from doing it by the representations of his friends, who 
had said that it would injure the cause. He declared 
his readiness to submit to a democratic government if 
regularly constituted ; but swore that he and the other 
chiefs and their followers would shed the last drop of 
their blood, rather than submit to the intrigues of a 
foreigner. He himself at that time intended to proceed 
to the Congress at Salamis to settle the affairs of the 
country, and he invited Lord Byron and all the other 
British Philhellenes to communicate with the general 
Government, and to send their succours to them alone. 
His sentiments were shared by the other chiefs, and the 
name of Mavrocordatos was never mentioned with re- 
spect in the Peloponnesus, where it seemed he had lost 
all influence. His influence reigned in another quarter, 
and for that reason his suite were very solicitous that 
Lord Byron's friends should proceed to Hydra, instead 
of Salamis, and expressed a hope that Lord Byron 
himself would act in the difference between the Prince 
and Colocotronis, not as a simple mediator, but in a 



XXXVl APPENDIX. 

decisive manner, " avcc uuc main dc fer,'' as they were 
convinced that the former character would be usclt^ss. 

The Congress met at Salamis to (lehl)erate on the most 
important questions — the form of the government, and 
the measures of the future campaign. The legislative 
assembly consisted of fifty, and the executive of five. 
Every thing is described as wearing the appearance of 
reality — the chiefs and people acknowledging, and, as far 
as strangers could judge, obeying the Government and 
its decrees. They received the agents of Lord Byron in 
the most friendly manner, and opened every thing to 
them without reserve — and enabled them to convev to 
him a very instructive account of the real state of affairs. 
Ulysses, (Odysseus) a brave and dexterous mountain- 
chief of great power and consummate military skill, at 
that time and still in command of Athens, was about to 
lead 5000 Albanians into Negropont, whither Mr. Tre- 
lawney agreed to accompany him as his aide-de-camp, 
being promised any number of men he chose under his 
command, and under the expectation of passing the win- 
ter there very agreeably between Turk and w(;odcock 
shooting. Colocotronis and his son, a fine, spirited 
young man, with all their forces, were to undertake the 
siege of Patras. Tombasi, the admiral of Hydra, was 
in command <at Candia, where active warfare was expect- 
ed. Staicos was to remain at Corinth, which surren- 
dered in October, very soon after the Congress. Marco 
Botzari's brother with his Suliotes, and Mavrocordatos, 
were to take charge of Messolonghi, whicii at that time 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. XXXvii 

(October 1823), was in a very critical state, being block- 
aded both by land and sea. 

'' There have been/* says Mr. Trelawney, " thirty battles 
fought and won by the late Marco Botzari and his gallant 
tribe of Suliotes^, who are shut up in Messolonghi. If it fall, 
Athens will be in danger, and thousands of throats cut. A 
few thousand dollars would provide ships to relieve it — a por- 
tioji of this sum is raised" — and Mr. Trelawney adds, in a 
i^irit Avorthy of him and his deceased friend, " / would coin 
7m/ heart to save this key of Greece /" 

A report like this was sufficient to show the point 
where succour was most needed; and Lord Byron's 
determination to relieve Messolonghi was still more 
decidedly confirmed by a letter which he received from 
Mavrocordatos, from Hydra (Oct. 21), in answer to one 
which his Lordship had addressed to him on the subject 
of the dissensions which reigned in the Government, and 
the Prince's desertion of his post. In this very able and 
creditable letter Mavrocordatos attempts to set Lord 
Byron right with respect to the dissensions in the Morea, 
and points out with great justice, that though the Go- 
vernment may be divided, the nation is 7iot ; and that 
whatever at any time may have been the difference of 
opinion, all parties have joined hand and heart, and 
fought to the last extremity against the common enemy. 
He attributes such dissensions as do exist to the want of 
nwney, and predicts their immediate disappearance when 
means are found to pay the fleets and armies. He goes 
on to speak of Lord Byron's intentions: — 



XXXVm APPENDIX. 

" I should do myself an injustice, my Lord, if I were not 
to speak to you with the frankness which you expect from 
me ; I cannot agree with you when you say your best plan is 
to rest in observation. I will never advise you to run the 
risk of appearing to embrace the interests of a party ; but all 
the world knows, and no one better tlian myself, that you are 
come here with the firm intention of succouring Greece: — this 
Greece is now before you, under your eyes ; you may see at 
the first glance which is the part in danger, — that Messo- 
longhi is blockaded by land and by sea, that it is destitute 
of provisions, and on the point of falling into the hands of 
the Turks ; who afterwards will have no difficulty in pene- 
trating into the Morea and seizing upon its most fertile pro- 
vinces, from whence it will be hard, nay impossible, to dis- 
lodge them. To carry succour to this place, to save it, is to 
save Greece itself. Is this declaring for a party ? Is it not 
rather to do that which the feelings of honour and humanity 
dictate to us all? Influenced by these and other reasons, 
I never know when to leave off inviting you to come to the 
succour of IMessolonghi." 

At this time Mavrocordatos was endeavouring to col- 
lect a fleet for the relief of Messolonghi. Lord Byron"'s 
intentions, under the circumstances to which tliis letter 
alludes, may be seen from the following extract of a letter 
from him, dated the 29th Oct. 1823. 

" Corinth is taken, and a Turkish squadron is said to be 
beaten in the Archipelago — the public progress of the Greeks 
is considerable, but their internal dissensions still continue. 
On arriving at the seat of Government I shall endeavour to 
mitigate or extinguish them — though neither is an easy task. 
I have remained here partly in ex])ectation of the 5;()ii:uln»ii in 



I 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. XXXIX 

relief of Messolonghi, partly of Mr. Parry's detachment, and 
partly to receive from Malta or Zante the sum of four hun- 
dred thousand piastres, which, at the desire of the Greek 
Government, I have advanced for the payment of the expect- 
ed squadron. The bills are negociating, and will be cashed 
in a short time, as they could have been immediately in any 
other mart, but the miserable Ionian merchants have little 
money and no great credit, and are besides politically shy on 

this occasion, for although I had the letters of— , 

one of the strongest houses of the Mediterranean, also of 
^ there is no business to be done on fair terms 
except through English merchants ; these, however, have 
proved both able, and willing, and upright, as usual." He 
continues — 

" It is my intention to proceed by sea to Nauplia di 
Romania, as soon as I have managed this business — I mean 
the advance of the 400,000 piastres for the fleet. My time 
here has not been entirely lost; indeed you will perceive 
by some former documents that any advantage from my 
then proceeding to the Morea was doubtful. We have at 
last named the Deputies, and I have written a strong re- 
monstrance on their divisions to Mavrocordatos, which I 
understand was forwarded to the legislative body by the 
Prince." 

He did not, however, depart for the Government at the 
time he had expected, and conceived it necessary to ad- 
dress the Government again on the subject of their dis- 
sensions. The following extract is a translation of the 
concluding part of this very admirable letter : 

" The affair of the loan,— the expectation, so long and 
vainly indulged, of the arrival of the Greek fleet, and the 



xl APPENDIX. 

dangers to which Mossoh)iiij:hi is still exposed, have detained 
me here, and will still detain me till some of them are re- 
moved. But when the money shall be advanced for the 
fleet, I will start for the Morea, not knowing, however, of 
what use my presence can he in the })resent state of things. 
We have heard some rumours of ^e^v dissensions — nay, of 
the existence of a civil war. With alJ my heart I desire 
that these reports may be false or exaggerated, for I can 
imagine no calamity more serious than this ; and I must 
frankly confess, that unless union and order are confirmed, 
all hopes of a loan will be vain, and all the assistance which 
the Greeks could expect from abroad — an assistance which 
might be neither trifling nor worthless — will be suspended 
or destroyed ; and what is worse, the great powers of 
Europe, of whom no one was an enemy to Greece, but 
seemed inclined to favour her in consenting to the establish- 
ment of an independent power, will be persuaded that the 
Greeks are unable to govern themselves, and will perhaps 
themselves undertake to arrange your disorders in such a way 
as to blast the brightest hopes you indulge, and \\'hich are 
indulged by your friends. 

" And allow me to add, once for all, I desire tlie well- 
being of Greece and nothing else; I will do all I can to 
secure it ; but I cannot consent — I never will consent, to 
the finglish public, or Englisli individuals, being deceived 
as to the real state of Greek aflfairs. The rest, gentlemen, 
depends on you — you have fought gloriously — act honour- 
ably towards your fellow-citizens and towards the world; 
and then it will be no more said, as has boon repeated for 
200() years with the Roman historian, that Philopocmcn was 
the last of the Grecians. Let not calumny itself (and it rs 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. xli 

difficult to guard against it in so difficult a struggle) com- 
pare the Turkish Pasha with the patriot Greek in peace, 
after you have exterminated him in war. 

'' 30th Nov. 1823." " N. B." 

In another letter, written a few days after this, we 
find a circumstance mentioned which probably turned 
his views from the Morea to Western Greece. It must 
be remembered that the Suliotes were his old favour- 
ites, and that their late bravery had raised them still 
higher in his estimation. 

'' The Suliotes (now in Acarnania) are very anxious that I 
should take them under my direction, and go over and put 
things to rights in the Morea, which without a force seems 
impracticable; and really though very reluctant, as my letters 
will have shown you, to take such a measure, there seems 
hardly any milder remedy. However, I will not do any 
thing rashly, and have only continued here so long in the 
hope of seeing things reconciled, and have done all in my 
power there-for. Had I gone sooner they would have forced 
me into one party or the other, and I doubt as much now. 
But we will do our best. Dee. 7- 1823." 

His Lordship seems to have been too sensitive on 
this point, and, as we think, attached too great an im- 
portance to these dissensions. We may quote against 
him a sentence from a letter of one of his intimate 
friends. 

" I am convinced if they (the Greeks) succeed in getting 
the loan, the liberty of Greece will be definitively founded on 
a firm basis. True, there is much diff'erence of opinion exist- 

3 D 



xlii APPENDIX. 

ing amongst the people in authority here, as well as in every 
other country, and some little squabbling for place and 
power, but they all unite against the common enemy. Love 
of liberty and execration of their barbarous oppressors actuate 
them. What they want, to ensure success and consolidate 
the Government, is money — money — money." 

Lord Byron in his correspondence, however, conti- 
nues to allude to these unfortunate differences, and is 
pleasant upon the gasconading which distinguishes the 
Greek of this day, as it did the Greek of the age of 
Cleon. 

*^ C will tell you the recent special interposition of the 

Gods in behalf of the Greeks, who seem to have no enemies 
in heaven or earth to be dreaded but their own tendency to 
discord among themselves. But these too, it is to be hoped, 
will be mitigated; and then we can take the tield on the 
offensive, instead of being reduced to the 'petite guerre' of 
defending the same fortresses year after year, and taking a 
few ships, and starving out a castle, and making more fuss 
about them than Alexander in his cups, or Buonaparte in a 
bulletin. Our friends have done something in the way of 
the Spartans, but they have not inherited their style. — Dec. 
10, 1823." 

Soon after the date of this letter the long desired 
squadron arrived in the waters of Messolonghi ; and in 
a letter written three days after the date of the last, 
(Dec. 13tii,) his Lordsliip says, 

'• I momentarily expect advices from Prince Mavrocordatos, 
who is on board, and has (I understand) despatches from the 



► 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. xliii 

legislative to me ; in consequence of wliich^ after paying the 
squadron^ I shall probably join him at sea or on shore." 

In the same light and agreeable manner in which he 
touches upon every subject, he proceeds to speak of the 
Committee supplies, which had been sent out to him as 
its agent; an office which he had taken upon himself 
with great readiness, and executed with considerable 
judgment and discrimination. 

" The mathematical^, medical, and musical preparations of 
the Committee have arrived in good condition, abating some 
damage from wet, and some ditto from a portion of the letter- 
press being spilt in landing (I ought not to have omitted the 
press, but forgot it at the moment — excuse the same) ; they 
are pronounced excellent of their kind, but till we have an 
engineer, and a trumpeter (we have chirurgeons already), 
mere ' pearls to swine,' as the Greeks are ignorant of mathe- 
matics, and have a bad ear for our music ; the maps, &c. I 
will put into use for them, and take care that all (with proper 
caution) are turned to the intended uses of the Committee." 

He speaks again of the supplies, however, with more 
pleasantry than foresight ; for the very articles which he 
seems to have thought thrown away, proved of remark- 
able service, more particularly the trumpets. The 
Turks are so apprehensive of the skill and well directed 
valour of the Franks^ that even the supposed presence 
of a body of such troops is sufficient to inspire a panic. 
The Greeks, aware of this, have frequently put their 
enemy in disorder by sounding these same despised 
bugles. The Greeks know this weak side of the Turks 

3 D 2 



Xliv APPENDIX. 

bo well, that they sometimes consider a collection of old 
European hatn a piece of ammunition more effectual 
than much heavier artillery. The sight of a hat, if 
well-cocked, in the occidental fashion, espied among the 
Greek forces, is often as terrific as the sound of a trum- 
pet. 

" The supplies of the Committee are very useful, and all 
excellent in their kind, but occasionally hardly practical 
enough in the present state of Greece ; for instance, the ma- 
thematical instruments are thrown away; none of the Greeks 
know a problem from a poker — we must conquer first, and 
plan afterwards. The use of the trumpets, too, may be 
doubted, unless Constantinople were Jericho ; for the Hellen- 
ists have no ears for bugles, and you must send somebody to 
listen to them." He goes on, "^ We will do our best ; and I 
pray you to stir your English hearts at home to more general 
exertion ; for my part I will stick by the cause while a plank 
remains which can be honourably clung to — if I quit it, it 
will be by the Greeks' conduct — and not the Holy Allies, 
or the holier Mussulmans." 

This determination never to desert the Greeks, as long 
as he could be of any service to them, is repeat<?dly ex- 
pressed in his correspondence. He concludes a letter to 
his banker, in Cephalonia, on business, with this sen- 
tence : " I hope things here will go well, some time or 
other — I will stick by the cause as long as a cause exists, 
first or second.'''' 

Lord Byron had the more merit in the zeal and 
energy with which he espoused the interests of the Hel- 
lenic cause, for he had not suffered himself to be dis- 



LORD BYUOK IN GREECE. xlv 

gusted by the real state of things, when stripped of 
their romance by actual experience; and he was too 
wise to be led away by a blind enthusiasm. He seems 
to have been actuated, in the main, for we must not 
expect perfection either in Lord Byron or the Greeks, 
by a steady desire to benefit a people who deserved the 
assistance and sympathy of every lover of freedom and 
the improvement of mankind. He speaks to this point 
himself; and here we may remark, as in almost every 
line he ever wrote, the total absence of cant, — which 
unfortunately colours the writings and conversations of 
almost every man who imagines himself to live in the eye 
of the world. 

" I am happy to say that and myself are 

acting in perfect harmony together: he is likely to be of 
great service both to the cause and to the Committee, and 
is publicly as well as personally a very valuable acquisition 
to our party, on every account. He came up (as they all 
do who have not been in the country before) with some 
high-flown notions of the 6th form at Harrow and Eton, &c. ; 

but Col. -^ and I set him to rights on those points, 

which was absolutely necessary to prevent disgust, or per- 
haps return — but now we can set our shoulders soberly to 
the wheel, without quarrelling with the mud which may clog 

it occasionally. I can assure you that Col. and myself 

are as decided for the cause as any German student of them 
all — but, like men who have seen the country and human life, 
there and elsewhere, we must be permitted to view it in its 
truth — ^with its defects as well as beauties, more especially 
as success will remove the {ormQi— gradually. — (Dec. 26, 
1823.)" 



Xlvi APPENDIX. 

Lord Byron had by this time yielded to the sohcita- 
tions of Mavrocordatos, who rej^eutcdly urged him in 
the most pressing manner to cross over to Mcssolonglii, 
and who offered to send, and did send, ship after ship 
to Cephalonia, to bring him over. He seems to have 
been chiefly delayed by the difficulty in procuring money 
for his Italian bills. His anxiety to procure supplies is 
a constant subject of his correspondence. 

" I have written/' he says, in a letter dated 13th Oct. 1823, 
" to our friend Douglas Kiiinaird, on my own matters, desiring 
him to send me out all the further credits he can command 
(and I have a year's income and the sale of a manor hesides, 
he tells me, before me) ; for till the Greeks get their loan, it is 
probable I shall have to stand partly paymaster, as far as I am 
' good upon 'Change,' that is to say. — I pray you to repeat as 
much to him; and say that I must in the interim draw on 

Messrs. R most formidahly — to say the truth, I do not 

grudge it, now the fellows have begun to fight again : and 
still more welcome shall they be, if they will <jo on — hut 
they have had, or are to have four thousand pounds (hesides 
some private extraordinaries for widows, orphans, refugees, 
and rascals of all descriptions) of mine at one ' swoop,' and 
it is to he expected the next will he at least as mucli more, 
and how can I refuse if they will fijiht ? and especially if 
I should happen to be in their com])any ? I therefore 
request and require, that you should ai)prize my trusty 
and trustworthy trustee and banker, and crown and sheet 
anchor, Douglas Kinnaird the lionourahle, tliat lie prepare 
all monies of mine, including the purchase-money of Roch- 
dale manor, and mine inc(mie for the year a. d. 1824, to 
answer and anticipate any orders or drafts of mine, for 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. xlvil 

the good cause, in good and lawful money of Great Britain, 
&c. &c. &c. May you live a thousand years ! which is 999 
longer than the Spanish Cortes* Constitution/' 

When the supplies were procured, and his other pre- 
parations made for departure, two Ionian vessels were 
hired, and embarking his horses and effects, his Lord- 
ship sailed from Argostoli on the 29th of December. 
Anchoring at Zante the same evening, the whole of the 
following day was occupied in making his pecuniary 

arrangements with Mr. , and after receiving a 

quantity of specie on board, he proceeded towards Mes- 
solonghi. Two accidents occurred on this short passage, 
which might have been attended with very serious con- 
sequences. Count Gamba, an intimate friend who had 
accompanied his Lordship from Leghorn, had been 
charged with the vessel in which the horses and part of 
the money were embarked ; when off Chiarenza, a point 
which lies between Zante and the place of their des- 
tination, they were surprised at day-light on finding them- 
selves under the bows of a Turkish frigate. Owing, 
however, to the activity displayed on board Lord 
Byron *s vessel, and her superior sailing, she escaped, 
while the second was fired at, brought to, and carried 
into Patras. Gamba and his companions, being taken 
before YusufF Pasha, fully expected to share the fate 
of the unfortunate men whom that sanguinary chief 
sacrificed last year at Prevesa, though also taken under 
the Ionian flag ; and their fears would most probably 
have been realized, had it not been for the presence of 
mind displayed by the Count. Aware that nothing but 



Xlviii APPENDIX. 

stratagem and effrontery could save him, he no sounei* 
saw himself in the Pasha's power, than assuming an 
air of hauteur and indifference, he accused the cap- 
tain of the frigate of a scandalous breach of neutral- 
ity, in firing at and detaining a vessel under English 
colours; and concluded by informing Yusuff, that he 
might expect the vengeance of the British Government 
in thus interrupting a nobleman who was merely on 
his travels, and bound to Calamos ! * AVhether the 
Turkish chief believed Gamba's story, or })eing aware 
of the real state of the case, did not Mish to proceed 
to extremities, he not only consented to the vessel's re- 
lease, but treated the whole party with the utmost 
attention, and even urged them to take a day's shooting 
in the neighbourhood. Count Gamba gladly availed 
himself of these unexpected hospitalities, and sailing 
the next day, passed over to Messolonghi, where, to 
his great surprise, Lord Byron had not yet arrived. 



* The treatment of Gamba and the crew, while on ])oar(l the 
Turkish ship of war, was scarcely less courteous than that Avhich 
they experienced on landing. This arose from a very singular 
coincidence. On their first mountinii: the frigate's deck, the 
captain frave orders to put them all in irons, and might have pro- 
ceeded to further extremities, when the nuister of the vessel went 
up to him, and asked " whether he did not recollect Spiro, who 
had saved his life in the Black Sea fifteen years before?" Upon 
which the Turk, looking stedfastly at him for a few moments, ex- 
claimed — "What! can it be Spiro?" and springing forward, em- 
braced his former deliverer with the greatest transport. This 
unlooked-for reception was followed by a promise that every effort 
would be made to obtain his speedy liberation on their arrival 
at Patras. 



LORD BYRON IN GREEtlE. xlix 

Owing to the wind's becoming contrary, Lord Byron's 
vessel took shelter at the Scrofes, a cluster of rocks 
within a few miles of Messolonghi ; but as this place 
aiforded no means of defence in the event of an attack, 
it was thought adviseable to remove to Dagromestre, 
where every preparation in their power was made, should 
any of the enemy ''s ships pursue them. 

Having remained three days at Dagromestre, the 
wind came round and allowed his Lordship once more 
to set sail. On hearing what had happened. Prince 
Mavrocordatos despatched a gun-boat to accompany his 
Lordship's vessel ; while a portion of the Greek squa- 
dron, stationed at Messolonghi, were also ordered to 
cruize in the offing, and prevent the Turkish vessels 
from approaching the coast. One of these coming up, 
the captain sent a boat on board, inviting his Lordship 
to make the remainder of his voyage on board of his 
ship ; this offer was, however, declined. As if the 
whole voyage was destined to be ominous of some future 
calamity, the vessel had not proceeded many miles 
before she grounded on a shoal near the Scrofes, and 
would probably have remained there, had it not been 
for the activity of his Lordship's attendants, who jump- 
ed into the water and assisted to push the vessel off; 
whilst their master urged the captain and crew to exert 
themselves, instead of invoking the Saints, as is cus> 
tomary with Greek sailors on such occasions.* As the 

* His Lordship is described by his physician as conducting 
himself with admirable coolness. We will give the anecdote in his 



1 APPENDIX. 

wind continued to blow directly against their getting to 
Messolonghi, the vessel was again anchored between 
two of the numerous islets which line this part of the 
coast. Several gun-boats having arrived early the fol- 
lowing morning, despatched from Messolonghi to ac- 
company his Lordship, and assist him if required ; the 
vessel accordingly sailed, but was forced to anchor in the 
evening, nor did she reach the town before the following 
day. 

We can, however, give Lord Byron''s account of his 
situation on the Scrofes, which we find in a hasty letter 
written on board the Cephaloniote vessel in which he 
sailed from Argostoli. 

'^ We are just arrived here (the letter is dated 31st Dec. 
1823), tlitit is, part of my people and I, with some things. 



own words : " Ma nel tli hii passjiiTijrioinarittimo una fre^rata Turca 
insegnii la di lui nave, obligandola di rioo^•era^si dentro le Scrofes, 
dove per I'impeto del venti fu gettata sopra i scogli : tutti i mari- 
nari e' re(pni)a^i2:io saharono a teiTa per salvare la loro vita: 
Milord solo col di lui Medico Dottr. Bnino riniasero sulla nave 
che ognuno vedeva colare a fondo : ma dopo qualche tempo non 
essendosi visto che cio avveniva, le persone fu^rprite a terra respin- 
sero la nave nell' acrjue : ma il tempestoso mare la ribasto una 
secondo volta contro i scogli, ed allora si aveva per certo che la 
nave coll' illustre personaggio, una gran quantita di denari, e 
molti preziosi effetti per i Greci anderebbero a fondo : Tuttavia 
Lord Byron non si perturbo per nulla, anzi disse al di lui medico 
che voleva gettansi al nuoto onde raggiongere la spiaggia : * non 
abbandonate la nave finche abbiamo forze per direggerla ; allorche 
saremo coperti dalP accjue, allora gettatevi pure, che io vi salvo.' " 



LOBD BYRON IN GREECE, 11 

&c., and which it may be as well not to specify in a letter 
(which has a risk of being intercepted) : but Gamba, and 
my horses^ negro, steward, and the press and all the com- 
mittee things — also some eight thousand dollars of mine 
(but never mind, we have more left — do you understand?)* 
are taken by the Turkish frigate — and my party and myself 
in another boat have had a narrow escape last night (being 
close under their stern and hailed, but we would not answer 
and hove away) as well as this morning. Here we are 
with snow and blowing weather, within a pretty little port 
enough ; but whether our Turkish friends may not send in 
their boats and take us out (for we have no arms except two 
carbines and some pistols — and — I suspect — not more than 
four fighting people on board), is another question — especially 
if we remain long here — since we are blockaded out of Mes- 
solonghi by the direct entrance. You had better send my 
friend George Drako and a body of Suliotes, to escort us 
by land or by the canals, with all convenient speed. Gamba 
and all on board are taken into Patras, I suppose — and we 
must have a turn at the Turks to get them out; but where 
the devil is the fleet gone ? the Greek I mean, leaving us to 
get in without the least intimation to take heed that the 
Moslems were out again. Make my respects to Mavro* 
cordatos, and say that I am here at his disposal. I am un- 
easy at being here, not so much on my own account as on 
that of the Greek boy with me — for you know what his 
fate would be^ — and I would sooner cut him in pieces and 
myself, than have him taken out by those barbarians." 



* He wished to convey that he had these 8000 dollars with him 
in his present awkward situation. 



lii AITENDIX. 

Lord Byron was received at Messolonghi with the 
most enthusiastic demonstrations of joy: no mark of 
honour or welcome which the Greeks could devise was 
omitted. The ships anchored off the fortress fired a 
salute as he passed. Prince Mavrocordatos and all the 
authorities, with all the troops and the population col- 
lected together, met him on his landing, and accompanied 
him to the house which had been prepared for him, 
amidst the shouts of the nudtitudc and the discharge 
of cannon. Nothinfj could exceed the eagerness with 
which he had been expected, except the satisfaction 
which was displayed on his arrival. 

One of the first objects to which Lord Byron naturally 
turned his attention was to mitigate the ferocity with 
which the war had been carried on. This ferocity, not 
only excusable in the first instance, but absolutely ne- 
cessary and unavoidable, Iiad now in a great measure 
effected its object. The Greeks were by this time in a 
conditi(m to be merciful; and Lord Byron in the most 
judicious manner set about producing an improvement in 
the system of warfare on both sides. 

The very first day of his Lordship's arrival was sig- 
nalized by his rescuing a Turk, who had fallen into the 
hands of some Greek sailors. The individual thus saved, 
having been clothed by his orders, was ke])t in the house 
until an opportunity occurred of sending him to Patras.* 



* Inseguendo uii ^nonio un corsam Cireco, una na\e carica cli 
Turchi, uno di cssi iiell' affrettarsi ad accomodare una vela per 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. liii 

His Lordship had not been long at Messolonghi, 
before an opportunity presented itself for showing his 
sense of Yusuff Pasha's moderation in releasing Count 
Gamba. Hearing that there were four Turkish prison- 
ers in the town, he requested that Prince Mavrocordatos 
would place them in his hands : this being immediately 
granted, they were sent to the castle of the Morea, 



fuggire piu presto^ cadde in mare^ e gli riusci di portarsi a terra 
nuotandOj ma due soldati Greci lo inseguivano per ammazzarlo ; 
la fortuna voile che il Turco fuggisse appunto nella casa d'abita- 
zione di Milord^ il quale lo accolse subito, e lo nascose : giunti 
i due soldati Greci, chiedono furibondi coll' armi aUa mano ^ 
colle minaccie la restituzione della loro preda che volevano sacri- 
ficare ; Milord gli offre qual somma volessero per riscattare il 
Turco ; ma i due soldati insistono, coUe armi in atto di ferire, 
a voler il prigioniero per ammazzarlo ; allora IMilord rispose, 
giacche e cosi^ me piuttosto ammazzerete che quel povero in- 
felice perisca ! Barbari che siete, e questo I'esempio che date 
di essere Christiani come voi dite ? Ola fuggite dalla mia presen- 
za, se non volete che vi faccia pagar caro il fio della vostra bar- 
barie. — Lo tenne seco nascosto per alquanti giorni: lo fece 
curare dal suo medico d'una malattia che la paura gli aveva 
cagionato, e poi caricatolo di doni, lo mando a Patrasso in seno 
della sua famiglia. Aveva Milord pure raccolto in Messolonghi 
una donna Turca coUa di lei figlia, che dall' apice de la fortuna 
si trovavano nella piu grande miseria. Fece dei ricchissimi doni 
alia figlia ancor bambina^ ed aveva divisato di mandarla educare 
in Italia, il che si effettuava anche dopo la di lui morte ; ma la 
madre e figlia Turche giunte a Zante voUevano per forza andare a 
Prevesa, dicendo, che siccome avevano perduto in Milord il loro 
padre, volevano riUrarsi nel lor nativo paese, e piangeme cold per 
sempre la perdita. — Dr. Bruno. 



hv APPENDIX. 

near Patras, with the following letter addressed to the 
Turkish chief: 

" Highness ! — A vessel in which a friend and some do- 
mestics of mine were embarked, was detained a few days ago, 
and released by order of your Highness. I have now to thank 
you, not for liberating the vessel, which, as carrying a neutral 
flag, and being under British protection, no one had a right 
to detain, but for having treated my friends with so much 
kindness while they were in your hands. 

" In the hope, therefore, that it may not be altogether 
displeasing to your Highness, I have requested the Governor 
of this place to release four Turkish prisoners, and he has 
humanely consented to do so. I lose no time, therefore, in 
sending them back, in order to make as early a return as 
I could for your courtesy on the late occasion. These pri- 
soners are liberated -v^ithout any conditions ; but, should 
the circumstance find a place in your recollection, I venture 
to beg that your Highness will treat such Greeks as may 
henceforth fall into your hands with humanity, more es- 
pecially since the horrors of war are suificiently great in 
themselves, without being aggravated by wanton cruelties on 
either side. 

" Mcssolunghi, 23 Januuri/, lii24." 

" NOEL BYROX." 

The above act was ibliowcd by another not less en- 
titled to praise, while it proves how anxious his Lord- 
ship felt to give a new turn to the system of warfare 
hitherto pursued. A Greek cruizer having captured a 
Turkish boat, in which there were a nuni])er of passen- 
gers, chiefly women and children, they were also placed 
in the hands of Lord Byron, at his j)articular request : 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE, Iv^ 

upon which a vessel Was immediately hired, and the 
whole of them, to the number of twenty-four, sent to 
Prevesa, provided with every requisite for their comfort 
during the passage. The letter which accompanied 
these poor people was answered by the Enghsh Consul 
Mr. Meyer, who thanked his Lordship in the name of 
Beker Aga the Turkish Governor of that place, and con- 
cluded by an assurance that he would take care equal 
attention should be in future shown to the Greeks who 
became prisoners. 

Another grand object with Lord Byron, and one 
which he never ceased to forward with the most anxious 
solicitude, was to reconcile the quarrels of the native 
Chiefs, to make them friendly and confiding to one 
another, and submissive to the orders of the Govern- 
ment. He had neither time nor much opportunity before 
his decease to carry this point to any great extent ; 
much good was however done ; and if we may judge 
from a few observations we find respecting the treatment 
of Sisseni, a fractious chief of Gastouni, we may be 
certain that it was done with a wise and healing hand. 

" If Sisseni is sincere, he will be treated with, and rvell 
treated : if he is not, the sin and the shame may lie at his 
own door. One great object is, to heal these internal dis- 
sensions for the future, without exacting a too rigorous 
account of the past. The Prince Mavrocordatos is of the 
same opinion, and whoever is disposed to act fairly will be 
fairly dealt with. I have heard a good deal of Sisseni, but 
not a deal of good. However, I never judge by report, par- 
ticularly in a revolution : personally I am rather obliged to 



Ivi APPENDIX. 

him, for he has been very hospitable to all friends of mine 
who have passed through his district. You may therefore 
answer him, that any overtures for the advantage of Greece 
and its intern.d pacification will be readily and sincerely 
met here. I hardly think he would have ventured a deceitful 
proposition to me through tjou, because he must be sure that 
in such case it would be eventually exposed. At any rate, 
the healing of these dissensions is so important a point, that 
something must be risked to obtain it." 

Sisseni is the Cupitcuio of the rich and fertile plain of 
Gastouni, who at first paid but a very uncertain obedi- 
ence to the Government ; but now, observing its increase 
in power and apparent security, had begun to make 
overtures for a regular submission to its decrees. The 
manners of all these oligarchs of the Morea, like those 
of Sisseni, are Turkish : they live surrounded by a 
mixture of splendour and misery, with a sort of court 
like those of other petty monarchs, filled with soldiers, 
harlots, and buffoons. 

Mavrocordatos in his invitations to Lord Byron had 
dwelt on the importance of his Lordship's presence at 
Messolonghi, and had no doubt fired his imagination 
by the anticipations of success, and the scenes of brilliant 
achievement which he laid before him. " Soyez }>er- 
suade, Milord,'' he says, among nnich of the same kind, 
" qu'il ne dcpendra que de vous, d'assurer le sort de la 
Grece. Lepante ct Patras, cernes par terre et par mer, 
ne tarderont pas de capituler ; et maitres de ces deux 
places, nous pouvons former des projets de roccu|)ation 
de Thessalie !" Accordincrly, Lord Byron landed at 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. Ivii 

Messolonghi, animated with military ardour, and became, 
as one of the letters from the place, dated soon after 
his landing, expresses it, soldier-mad. After paying the 
fleet, which indeed had only come out under the ex- 
pectation of receiving its arrears from the loan which he 
promised to make to the Provisional Government, he set 
about forming a brigade of Suliotes. Five hundred of 
these, the bravest and most resolute of the soldiers of 
Greece, were taken into his pay on the 1st Jan. 1824, 
and an object worthy of them and their leader w^as 
not difficult to be found. 

The castle of Lepanto, which commands the gulf of 
that name, was the only fortress occupied by the Turks 
in Western Greece. Its position at the mouth of the 
gulf is one of great importance, and enables it to keep 
up a constant communication with Patras ; and while 
this was the case, it was impossible to reduce it in the 
ordinary mode of starvation. The garrison consisted of 
500 Turks, and a considerable number of Albanians ; 
the soldiers were clamorous for their pay, and much 
confusion was said to reign in the place. It v/as un- 
derstood that the Albanians would surrender on the 
approach of Lord Byron, and on being paid their 
arrears, which amounted to 23,000 dollars. In every 
point of view the place was of the highest importance, 
and the most sanguine hopes were entertained that a 
vigorous attack upon it would prove successful. Lord 
Byron was raised to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, 
mid spent his whole time in preparing for the expe- 

3 E 



Ivlil APPENDIX. 

dition. It was first intended that a body of 2600 men 
should form the main body, and that Lord Byron 
should join them with his 500 Suliotes, and with a 
corps of artillery under Mr. Parry, which had been 
raised by the Greek Committee in London. At the 
latter end of January, however, Lord Byron was 
appointed by the Greek Government to the sole coni;- 
mand of all the (3000) troops destined to act against 
Lepanto. He mentions this^ circumstance himself : 

" The expedition of about two thousand men is planned 
for an attack on Lepanto ; and for reasons of policy Avith 
regard to the native Capitani, who would rather he (nomi- 
nally at least) under the command of a foreigner, than one 
of their own body, the direction, it is said, is to be given to 
me. There is also another reason, which is, that if a capi- 
tulation should take place, the Mussulmans might perhaps 
rather have Christian faith with a Frank than with a Greeks 
and so be inclined to concede a point or two. These appear 
to be the most obvious motives for such an appointment, as 
far as I can conjecture ; unless there be one reason more, viz. 
that under present circumstances no one else (not even 
Mavrocordatos himself) seems disposed to accept such a 
nomination — and though my desires are as far as my deserts 
upon this occasion, I do not decline it, being willing to 
do as I am bidden ; and as I pay a considerable part of the 
clans, I may as well see what they are likely to do for their 
money; besides, I am tired of hearing nothing but talk." 

He adds in a note, that Tarry, wlio had been delay- 
ed, and had been long eagerly expected witli his ar- 
tillery and stores, had not arrived; and says, '^ I 



LOKD BYRON IK GREECE. lix 

presume from the retardment that he is the same Parry 
who attempted the North Pole, and is (it may be sup- 
posed) now essaying the Souths 

The expedition, however, had to experience delay and 
disappointment from much more important causes than 
^e non-appearance of the engineer. The Suhotes^ who 
conceived that they had found a patron whose wealth was 
inexhaustible, and whose generosity was as boundless, 
determined to make the most of the occasion, and 
proceeded to make the most extravagant demands on 
their leader for arrears, and under other pretences. 
Suliotes, untameable in the field, and equally unma- 
nageable in a town, were at this moment peculiarly 
disposed to be obstinate, riotous, and mercenary. They 
had been chiefly instrumental in preserving Messolon- 
ghi when besieged the previous autumn by the Turks, 
had been driven from their abodes, and the wliole of 
their families were at this time in the town destitute of 
either home or sufficient supplies. Of turbulent and 
reckless character, they kept the place in awe; and 
Mavrocordatos having, unlike the other captains, no 
soldiers of his own, was glad to find a body of valiant 
mercenaries, especially if paid for out of the funds of 
another ; and, consequently, was not disposed to treat 
them with harshness. Within a fortnight after Lord 
Byron's arrival, a burgher refusing to quarter some 
Suliotes who rudely demanded entrance into his house, 
was killed, and a riot ensued in which some lives were 
lost. Lord Byron's impatient spirit could ill brook the 

S E 2 



Ix Ari'ENJMX. 

delay of a favourite scheme, and he saw, with the ut- 
most chagrin, that tlie state of his favourite troops was 
such as to render any attempt to lead them out at pre- 
sent impracticable. 

The project of proceeding against Lepanto being thus 
suspended, at a moment when Lord Byron's enthusiasm 
was at its height, and when he had fully calculated on 
striking a blow which could not fail to be of the ut- 
most service to the Greek cause, it is no wonder that 
the unlooked-for disappointment should have preyed on 
his spirits, and produced a degree of irritability, which, 
if it was not the sole cause, contributed greatly to a 
severe fit of epilepsy, with which he was attacked on 
the Ljth of February. His Lordship was sitting in the 
apartment of Colonel Stanhope, (the active and enlight- 
ened representative of the Greek Conmiittee in Greece, 
who had gone out to co-operate with Lord Byron,) and 
was talking in a jocular manner with Mr. Tarry the 
engineer, when it was observed, from occasional and 
rapid changes in his countenance, that he was suffering 
under some strong emotion. On a sudden he complain- 
ed of a weakness in one of his legs, and rose; but find- 
ing himself unable to walk, he cried out for assistance. 
He then fell into a state of nervous and convulsive 
agitation, and was placed on a bed. For some minutes 
his countenance was nuich distorted. He however 
quickly recovered his senses ; his speech returned, and 
he soon appeared perfectly well, although enfeebled 
and exhausted by the violence of the struggle. Du- 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. 1x1 

Ting the fit he behaved with his usual remarkable firm- 
ness, and his efforts in contending with and attempting 
to master the disease are described as gigantic. In 
the course of the month the attack was repeated four 
times ; the violence of the disorder at length yielded to 
the remedies which his physicians advised, such as bleed- 
ing, cold bathing, perfect relaxation of mind, &c., and 
he gradually recovered. An accident, however, hap- 
pened a few days after his first illness, which was ill 
calculated to aid the efforts of his medical advisers. A 
Suliote, accompanied by the late Marco Botzari's little 
boy and another man, walked into the Seraglio — a place 
which before Lord Byron^s arrival had been used as a 
sort of fortress and barrack for the Suliotes, and out 
of which they were ejected with great difficulty for the 
reception of the Committee stores, and for the occu- 
pation of the engineers, who required it for a labo- 
ratory. The sentinel on guard ordered the Suliotes to 
retire ; which being a species of motion to which Su- 
liotes are not accustomed, the man carelessly advanced ; 
upon which the sergeant of the guard (a German) de- 
manded his business, and receiving no satisfactory an- 
swer, pushed him back. These wild warriors, who 
will dream for years of a blow if revenge is out of their 
power, are not slow to follow up a push. The Suliote 
struck again — the sergeant and he closed and struggled, 
when the Suliote drew a pistol from his belt. The ser- 
geant wrenched it out of his hand, and blew the pow- 
der out of the pan. At this moment Captain Sass, a 



Ixii APPENDIX, 

Swede, seeing the fray, came uj) and ordoiod tlie niau 
to be taken to the guard-room. The Siiliote was then 
disposed to depart, and would have done so if the ser- 
geant would have permitted him. Unfortunately, Cap- 
tain Sass did not confine himself to merely giving the 
order for his arrest ; for when the Suliote struggled to 
get away, Captain Sass drew his swoi'd and struck him 
with the flat part of it ; w hereupon the enraged Greek 
flew upon him with a pistol in one hand, and the sabre 
in the other; and at the same moment nearly cut off" the 
captain's right arm, and shot him through the head 
with the pistol. Captain Sass, who was remarkable 
for his mild and courageous character, expired in a few 
minutes. The Suliote also was a man of distinguished 
bravery. This was a serious aflair, and great apprehen- 
sions were entertained that it would not end here. The 
Suliotes refused to surrender the man to justice, alleging 
that he had been struck, which, in Suliote law, jus- 
tifies all the consequences which may follow. 

In a letter dated a few days after Lord Byron's fii'st 
attack, to a friend in Zante, he speaks of himself as ra- 
pidly recovering : 

'' I am II good deal better, tho' of course weakly ; the 
leeches took too much blood from my tem])lcs the day after, 
and there was some difficulty in stopping it ; l>wt I have 
been up daily, and out in boats or on horseback ; to-day I 
linve taken a warm Ijatli, and live as temperately as well 
can be, without any liquid but water, and without any ani- 
mal food." He then adds, " Besides the four Turks sent 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. Ixiii 

to Patras, I have obtained the release of four-and-twenty 
women and children, and sent them to Prevesa, that the 
English Consul-general may consign them to their relatives. 
I did this at their own desire." After recurring to some 
other subjects, the letter concludes thus : — '' Matters are 
here a little embroiled with the Suliotes, foreigners, &c., but 
I still hope better things, and will stand by the cause so 
long as my health and circumstances will permit me to be 
supposed useful." 

Notwithstanding Lord Byron's improvement in health, 
his friends felt from the first that he ought to try a 
change of air. Messolonghi is a flat, marshy, and pes- 
tilential place, and, except for purposes of utility, never 
would have been selected for his residence. A gentle- 
man of Zante wrote to him early in March, to induce 
him to return to that Island for a time ; to his letter 
the following answer was received on the 10th : 

" I am extremely obliged by your offer of your country- 
house, as for all other kindness, in case my health should 
require my removal ; but I cannot quit Greece while there 
is a chance of my being of (even supposed) utility, — there 
is a stake worth millions such as I am, — and while I can 
stand at all, I must stand by the cause. While I say this, 
I am aware of the difficulties, and dissensions, and defects, 
of the Greeks themselves; but allowance must be made 
for them by all reasonable people." 

It may well be supposed after so severe a fit of ill- 
ness, and that in a great measure superinduced by the 
conduct of the troops he had taken into his pay and 



txiv ArrKXDix. 

treated whh tlie I'cirrht of generosity, that he was ui no 
humour to pursue his sehenic arrainst Lcpanto — su)/- 
posing tliat liis state of health had been sueh as to bear 
the fatigue of a campaign in Greece. The Suliotcs, 
liovvever, shewed some signs of repentance, and offered 
to place themselves at his Lordship's disposal. They 
had, however, another objection to the nature of the 
service. In a letter which Colonel Stanhope wrote to 
Lord J3yron on the 6th of ^larch, from Athens, lie tells 
his Lordship that he had bivouacked chi the 21st of 
February in the liut of the Prefect of the Lepanto 
district, who had just had a conference with the garrison 
of that place. This man said, that if Lord Byron 
would march there with a considerable force, and the 
arrears due to the troops, the fortress would be sur- 
rendered ; and Colonel S. adds a pressing entreaty that 
Lord Byron would proceed there innnediately, and take 
advantage of this disposition on the })art of the garri- 
son. To this his Lordship has appended this note: 
— " The Suliotes have declined marching against Le- 
panto, saying, that ' they would not fight against stone 
walls.'' Colonel S. also knows their conduct here, in 
other respects, lately.*" — We may conclude that the ex- 
pedition to Lepanto was not thought of after this time. 

This same letter, which communicated to Lonl Byron 
the facility with which Lepanto might be taken, also 
announced the intention of Ulysses (Odysseus) to sum- 
mon a Congress of chiefs at Salona, to coJi>ider of a 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. Ixv 

mode of uniting more closely the interests of Eastern 
and Western Greece, and arranging between them some 
method of strict co-operation. The whole of these two 
districts are subordinate to their respective govern* 
ments, and as the Turkish army was expected to come 
down, it was supposed by Odysseus that some plan of 
acting in concert might be hit upon, which would not 
only enable them to resist the enemy with greater effect, 
but likewise rapidly advance the progress of civilization, 
and the authority of the government and constitution. 
Odysseus, who had the most influence in Eastern 
Greece, and was able to collect all the chiefs of his 
own district, was most desirous of prevailing upon 
Mavrocordatos and Lord Byron, who were all-powerful 
in the opposite territory, to be present at this Con- 
gress, which he proposed to hold at Salona, a town 
nearly on the confines of the two departments. Two 
agents were sent to persuade them to join in the de- 
sign, and repair to Salona. Odysseus himself first 
despatched Mr. Finlay ; and after him Captain Hum- 
phries went over to Messolonghi with all haste, by de- 
sire of Colonel Stanhope. The latter succeeded. Lord 
Byron, as may be supposed, was well disposed to tlie 
measure ; but his consent was for some time held back 
by the Prince, who had reasons for not approving the 
Congress. Mavrocordatos was always averse to meeting 
Odysseus, a man of a very different character from him- 
self : nor did he relish the idea of Lord Byron's quit-^ 



Ixvi APPENDIX. 

ting the seat of his government. It was, however, 
apparently settled that both should attend at Salona, 
as we learn from a letter from his Lordship to Colonel 
Stanhope, at Athens, directly accepting the invitation 
on the part of both ; as well as from another, dated 
the 22d March, to his agent, of which the following 
is an extract : — 

" In a few days P. IMavrocordatos and myself, with a con- 
siderable escort, intend to proceed to Salona at the request 
of Ulysses and the chiefs of Eastern Greece, and to take 
measures offensive and defensive for the ensuing campaign. 
Mavrocordatos is almost recalled by the new Government 
to the JMorea (to take the lead I rather think), and they 
have written to propose to me, to go either to the INIorea 
with him, or to take the general direction of affairs in this 
quarter with General Londos, and any other I may choose 
to form a council. Andrea Londos is my old friend and 
acquaintance since we were in Greece together. It would 
be difficult to give a positive answer till the Salona meet- 
ing is over ; but I am willing to serve them in any capacity 
they please, either commanding or commanded — it is much 
the same to me as long as I can be of any presumed use to 
them. Excuse haste — it is late — and I have been several 
hours on horseback in a country so miry after the rains, that 
every hundred yards brings vou to a brook or ditch, of 
whose depth, width, colour, and contents, both my horses and 
their riders have brought away many tokens.'' 

They did not, however, set out in a few days, as it 
seems to have been intended. In tlie Government, 



LORD BYRON IN GREECE. Ixvli 

which since Lord Byron*'s arrival at Messolonghi had 
been changed, the civil and island interest now great- 
ly preponderated ; and consequently by it a Congress 
of military chiefs was looked upon with some jea- 
lousy, and most unjustly styled an unconstitutional mea- 
sure. Mavrocordatos^s views were now those of the 
Government ; so that, in addition to his private motives, 
he had also a public interest in withholding Lord Byron 
from Salona. Various pretexts were urged for delay ; 
among others, whether a true or a pretended one is not 
exactly ascertained, a design of delivering up Messo- 
longhi to the Turks was alleged against the Suliotes. 
But at last came Lord Byron"'s fatal illness, and all 
schemes of congresses and campaigns were for a time 
forgotten in the apprehensions entertained for his life, 
and in the subsequent lamentations over his death, 
the meeting took place at Salona, on the 16th of April : 
Mavrocordatos was not there ; and Lord Byron was 
on his death-bed. 



Ixviii APPENDIX. 



Mr. FLETCHER 8 ACCOUNT of LORD BYRON'S 
LAST IMO.AIENTS. 



TiiK last moments of great men have always been a 
subject of deep interest, and are thought to be pregnant 
with instruction. Surely, if the death-bed of any man 
M'ill fix attention, it is that of one u})on whose most 
trifling action the eyes of all Europe have been fixed for 
ten years witli an anxious and minute curiosity, of 
which the annals of literature afford no previous ex- 
ample. We are enabled to present our readers with a 
very detailed report of Lord Byron's last illness. It is 
collected from the mouth of Mr. Eletclier, who has been 
for more than twenty years his faithful and confidential 
attendant. It is very possible that the account may 
contain inaccuracies : the agitation of the scene may 
have created some confusion in the mind of an humble 
but an affectionate friend : memory may, it is possible, 
in some trifling instances, have ])layed him false : and 
some of the tlioughts may have been changed either in 
the sense or in the expression, or l)y passing through 
the mind of an uneducated man. But we an? convinced 
of the general accuracy of the whole, and consider our- 
selves very fortunate in being tlie means of ])rescrving so 
affecting and interesting a history of the last days of 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYllON. Ixix 

the greatest and the truest poet that England has for 
some time produced. 

" My master," says Mr. Fletcher, " continued his 
usual custom of riding daily when the weather would 
permit, until the 9th of April. But on that ill-fated 
day he got very wet ; and on his return home his Lord- 
ship changed the whole of his dress ; but he had been 
too long in his wet clothes, and the cold, of which he 
had complained more or less ever since we left Ce- 
phalonia, made this attack be more severely felt. 
Though rather feverish during the night, his Lordship 
slept pretty well, but complained in the morning of a 
pain in his bones and a head-ache : this did not, how- 
ever, prevent him from taking a ride in the afternoon, 
which I grieve to say was his last. On his return, my 
master said that the saddle was not perfectly dry, from 
being so wet the day before, and observed that he 
thought it had made him worse. His Lordship was 
again visited by the same slow fever, and I was sorry to 
perceive, on the next morning, that his illness appear- 
ed to be increasing. He wais very low, and complained 
of not having had any sleep during the night. His 
Lordship's appetite was also quite gone. I prepared a 
little arrow-root, of which he took three or four spoon- 
fuls, saying it was very good, but could take no more. 
It was not till the third day, the 12th, that I began to 
be alarmed for my master. In all his former colds he 
always slept well, and was never affected by this slow 
fever. I therefore went to Dr. Bruno and Mr. Milliu- 



IXX APPENDIX. 

gen, the two medical attendants, and inc^uired naimtely 
into every circumstance connected with my master'^ pre- 
sent iUness : both rephed that there was no danger, and 
I might make myself perfectly easy on the subject, for 
all would be well in a few days. — This was on the 13th. 
On the following day I found my master in such a state, 
that I could not feel happy without supplicating that 
he would send to Zante for Dr. Thomas. After ex- 
pressing my fears lest his Lordship should get worse, 
he desired me to consult the doctors ; which I did, and 
was told there was no occasion for calling in any person, 
as they hoped all would be well in a few days. — Here 
I should remark, that his Lordship repeatedly said, in 
the course of the dav, he was sure the doctors did not 
understand his disease ; to which I answered, ' Then, 
my Lord, hove other advnce by all means.' — ' They tell 
me,' said his Lordship, ' that it is only a conmion cold, 
which, you know, I have had a thousand times.' — ' I am 
sure, my Lord,' said I, ' that you never had one of so 
serious a nature.' — ' I think I never had,' was his Lord- 
ship's answer. I repeated my supplications that Dr. 
Thomas should be sent for, on the loth, and was again 
assured that my master would be better in two or three 
days. After these confident assurances, I did not renew 
my entreaties until it was too late. With respect to the 
medicines that were given to my master, I could not 
persuade myself that those of a strong purgative nature 
were the best adapted for his complaint, concluding 
that, as he had nothing on his stomach, the only effect 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. Ixxi 

would be to create pain : indeed this must have been 
the case with a person in perfect health. The whole 
nourishment taken by my master, for the last eight 
days, consisted of a small quantity of broth at two or 
three different times, and two spoonfuls of arrow-root 
on the 18th, the day before his death. The first time 
I heard of there being any intention of bleeding his 
Lordship was on the 15th, when it was proposed by 
Dr. Bruno, but objected to at first by my master, who 
asked Mr. Millingen if there was any very great reason 
for taking blood ? — The latter replied that it might be 
of service, but added that it could be deferred till the 
next day ;— and accordingly my master was bled in the 
right arm, on the evening of the 16th, and a pound of 
blood was taken. I observed at the time, that it had 
a most inflamed appearance. Dr. Bruno now began to 
say he had frequently urged my master to be bled, but 
that he always refused. A long dispute now arose about 
the time that had been lost, and the necessity of sending 
for medical assistance to Zante ; upon which I was in- 
formed, for the first time, that it would be of no use, 
as my master would be better, or no more, before the 
arrival of Dr. Thomas. His Lordship continued to get 
worse : but Dr. Bruno said, he thought letting blood 
again would save his life ; and I lost no time in telHng 
my master how necessary it was to comply with the 
doctor's wishes. To this he replied by saying, he fear- 
ed they knew nothing about his disorder ; and then, 
stretching out his arm, said, * Here, take my arm, and 



IXXJJ APPENDIX. 

do whatever ycju like' His Loicl&hip continued to get 
weaker; and on tlic ITtli he was bled twice in the morn- 
ing, and at two oVloek in the afternoon. Tlie bleed- 
ing at both tinie.^ was followed by fainting-fits, and he 
would have fallen down more than once, had I not 
caught him in my arms. In order to prevent such an 
accident, I took care not to let his Lordship stir without 
supporting him. On this day my master said to me 
twice, ' I cannot sleep, and you well know I have not 
been able to sleep for more than a week : I know,' 
added his Lordship, ' that a man can only be a certain 
time without sleep, and then he must go mad, without 
any one being able to save him ; and I would ten times 
sooner shoot myself than be mad, for I am not afraid of 
dying, — I am more fit to die than people think.* I do 
not, however, believe that his Lordship had any appre- 
hension of his fate till the day after, the 18th, when he 
said, ' I fear you and Tita will be ill by sitting up con- 
stantly night and day.' I answered, ' AVe shall never 
leave your liOrdship till you are better.' As my master 
had a slight fit of delirium on the 16th, I took care to 
remove the jnstols and stiletto, which had hitherto been 
kept at his bedside in the night. On the 18th his Lord- 
ship addressed me freciuently, and seemed to be very 
much dissatisfied with his medical treatment. I then 
said, ' Do allow me to send for Dr. Thomas ;' to which 
he answered, ' Do so, but be (juick. I am sorry I did 
not let you do so before, as I am sure they have mistaken 
my disease. AVrite yourself, for I know they would not 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. Ixxiii 

like to see other doctors here.' I did not lose a moment 
in obeying my master's orders ; and on informing Dr. 
Bruno and Mr. Milhngen of it, they said it was very 
right, as they now began to be afraid themselves. On 
returning to my master's room, his first words were, 
' Have you sent ? ' — ' I have, my Lord,' was my answer ; 
upon which he said, ' You have done right, for I 
should like to know what is the matter with me.' 
Although his Lordship did not appear to think his 
dissolution was so near, I could perceive he was getting 
weaker every hour, and he even began to have occasional 
fits of delirium. He afterwards said, ' I now begin to 
think I am seriously ill ; and, in case I should be taken 
off suddenly, I wish to give you several directions, 
which I hope you will be particular in seeing executed.' 
I answered I would, in case such an event came to pass ; 
but expressed a hope that he would live many years to 
execute them much better himself than I could. To 
this my master replied, ' No, it is now nearly over ;** 
and then added, ' I must tell you all without losing a 
moment ! ' I then said, ' Shall I go, my Lord, and 
fetch pen, ink, and paper ? ' — ' Oh, my God ! no, you 
will lose too much time, and I have it not to spare, for 
my time is now short,' said his Lordship ; and imme- 
diately after, ' Now, pay attention !' His Lordship 
coHimenced by saying, ' You will be provided for,' I 
begged him, however, to proceed with things of more 
consequence. He then continued, ' Oh, my poor dear 
child !— my dear Ada ! My God 1 could I but have 

3 F 



Ixxiv APPENDIX. 

seen her ! Give her my blessing — and my dear sister 
Augusta and her children ; — and you will go to Lady 

Byron, and say tell her every thing;— you are 

friends with her/ His Lordship appeared to be greatly 
affected at this moment. Here my master's voice failed 
him, so that I could only catch a word at intervals ; but 
he kept muttering something very seriously for some 
time, and would often raise his voice and say, * Fletcher, 
now if you do not execute every order which I have 
given you, I will torment you hereafter if possible.' 
Here I told his Lordship, in a state of the greatest per- 
plexity, that I had not understood a word of what he 
said ; to which he replied, * Oh, my God ! then all is 
lost, for it is now too late ! Can it be possible you have 
not understood me ? ' — ' No, my Lord," said I ; ' but I 
pray you to try and inform me once more.^ — ' How can 
I .?' rejoined my master ; Mt is now too late, and all is 
over !' — I said, ' Not our will, but God's be done !' — 
and he answered, ' Yes, not mine be done — but I will 

try * His Lordship did indeed make several efforts 

to speak, but could only repeat two or three words at a 
time — such as, ' My wife ! my child ! my sister ! — you 
know all — you must say all — ^you know my wishes :^ the 
rest was quite unintelligible. A consultation was now 
held (about noon), when it was determined to adminis- 
ter some Peruvian bark and w ine. My master had now 
been nine days without any sustenance whatever, except 
what I have already mentioned. With the exception of 
a few words which can only interest those to whom they 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. Ixxv 

were addressed, and which, if required, I shall com- 
municate to themselves, it was impossible to understand 
any thing his Lordship said after taking the bark. He 
expressed a wish to sleep. I at one time asked whether 
I should call Mr. Parry ; to which he replied, ' Yes, 
you may call him.' Mr. Parry desired him to compose 
himself. He shed tears, and apparently sunk into a 
slumber. Mr. Parry went away, expecting to find him 
refreshed on his return — but it was the commencement 
of the lethargy preceding his death. The last words 
I heard my master utter were at six o'clock on the even- 
ing of the 1 8th, when he said, ' I must sleep now ;' 
upon which he laid down never to rise again ! — for he 
did not move hand or foot during the following twenty- 
four hours. His Lordship appeared, however, to be 
in a state of suffocation at intervals, and had a frequent 
rattling in the throat ; on these occasions I called Tita 
to assist me in raising his head, and I thought he seemed 
to get quite stiff. The ratthng and choaking in the 
throat took place every half-hour ; and we continued to 
raise his head whenever the fit came on, till six o'clock 
in the evening of the 19th, when I saw my master open 
his eyes and then shut them, but without showing any 
symptom of pain, or moving hand or foot. ' Oh ! my 
God !' I exclaimed, ' I fear his Lordship is gone f 
The doctors then felt his pulse, and said, ' You are 
right — he is gone !' " 



3 i^ 2 



Ixxvi APrKXDlX. 

The Editor thinks it riglit to add here, from " The 
Examiner,'" Dr. Bruno's Answer to Mr. Fletcher''s State- 
ment. 

" Mr. Fletcher has omitted to state, that on tlic second 
day of Lord Byron's ilhiess, his physician, Dr. Bruno, 
seeing the sudorific medicines had no effect, proposed 
blood-letting, and that his Lordship refused to allow it, 
and caused Mr. Millingen to be sent for, in order to 
consult with his physician, and see if the rheumatic fever 
could not be cured without the loss of blood. 

" Mr. MiUingen approved of tlie medicines previously 
prescribed by Dr. Bruno, and was not opposed to the 
opinion that bleeding was necessary ; but he said to his 
Lordship that it might be deferred till the next day. 
He held this language for three successive days, while 
the other physician (Dr. Bruno) every day threatened 
Lord Byron that he would die by his obstinacy in not 
allowing himself to be bled. His Lordship always an- 
swered, ' You wish to get the reputation of curing my 
disease, — that is why you tell me it is so serious; but 
I will not permit you to bleed me." 

" After the first consultation with Mr. Millingen, the 
domestic Fletcher asked Dr. Bruno how his Lordship's 
complaint was going on ? The physician replied that, 
if he would allow the bleeding, lie woidd be cured in a 
few days. But the surgeon, Mr. Millingen, assured 
Lord Byron, from day to day, that it could wait till to- 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. Ixxvii 

morrow ; and thus four days slipped away, during which 
the disease, for want of blood-letting, grew much worse. 
At length Mr. Millingen, seeing that the prognostica- 
tions which Dr. Bruno had made respecting Lord By- 
ron's malady were more and more confirmed, urged the 
necessity of bleeding, and of no longer delaying it a 
moment. This caused Lord Byron, disgusted at finding 
that he could not be cured without loss of blood, to say 
that it seemed to him that the doctors did not under- 
stand his malady. He then had a man sent to Zante 
to fetch Dr. Thomas. Mr. Fletcher having mentioned 
this to Dr. Bruno, the latter observed, that if his Lord- 
ship would consent to lose as much blood as was neces- 
sary, he would answer for his cure ; but that if he 
delayed any longer, or did not entirely follow his advice, 
Dr. Thomas would not arrive in time : — in fact, when 
Dr. Thomas was ready to set out from Zante, Lord 
Byron was dead. 

" The pistols and stiletto were removed from his 
Lordship's bed, — not by Fletcher, but by the servant 
Tita, who was the only person that constantly waited 
on Lord Byron in his illness, and who had been ad- 
vised to take this precaution by Dr. Bruno, the latter 
having perceived that my Lord had moments of de- 
hrium. 

" Two days before the death, a consultation was held 
with three other doctors, who appeared to think that 
his Lordship's disease was changing from inflammatory 



lxX\dii APPENDIX. 

diathesis to languid, and they ordered china*, opium, 
and ammonia. 

" Dr. Bruno opposed this with the greatest warmth, 
and pointed out to them that the symptoms were those, 
not of an alteration in the disease, hut of a fever flying 
to the brain, which was violently attacked by it ; and 
that the wine, the china, and the stimulants would kill 
Lord Byron more speedily than the complaint itself 
could ; while, on the other hand, by copious bleedings 
and the medicines that had been taken before, he might 
yet be saved. The other physicians, however, were of 
a different opinion ; and it was then that Dr. Bruno 
declared to his colleagues that he would have no further 
responsibility for the loss of Lord Byron, which he pro- 
nounced inevitable if the china were given him. In effect, 
after my Lord had taken the tincture, with some grains 
of carbonate of ammonia, he was seized by convulsions. 
Soon afterwards they gave him a cup of very strong 
decoction of china, with some drops of laudanum : he 
instantly fell into a deep lethargic sleep, from which he 
never rose. 

" The opening of the body discovered the brain in a 
state of the highest inflammation ; and all the six phy- 
sicians who were present at thnt opening were con- 
vinced that my Lord would have been saved by the 



* This is a French term, sometimes used for the smilax china 
but we have no doubt it means here the Jesuit's bark. 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. Ixxix 

bleeding, which his physician Dr. Bruno had advised 
from the beginning with the most pressing urgency and 
the greatest firmness." F. B. 



Of Lord Byron's friends in Greece, those whom one 
should have wished to have been present during his last 
illness were scattered about the country : Colonel Stan- 
hope was at Salona ; Mr. Trelawney arrived at Messo- 
longhi very soon after the fatal event. " With all my 
anxiety," he says, in a letter written immediately after, 
and dated Messolonghi, " I could not get here before 
the third day. It was the second, after having crossed 
the first great torrent, that I met some soldiers from 
Messolonghi : I then rode back and; demanded of a stran- 
ger the news from Messolonghi ; I heard nothing more 
than ' Lord Byron is dead/ and I passed on in gloomy 
silence." — It was at his desire that Dr. Bruno drew up 
his report of the examination of Lord Byron's body. 
This report we shall here insert, though it has been 
printed in the newspapers. But, partly owing to the 
vagueness of the original, and partly to the translator's 
ignorance of anatomy, it has been hitherto perfectly un- 
intelhgible. 

^^1. On opening the body of Lord Byron^ the bones of 
the head were found extremely hard^, exhibiting no appear- 
ance of suture^ like the cranium of an octogenarian, so that 
the skull had the appearance of one uniform bone : there 
seemed to be no diploe, and the sinus frontalis was wanting. 



IXXX APPENDIX. 

2. The dura mater was so lirmly attached to the internal 
parietes of the cranium, that the reiterated attempts of two 
strong men were insufficient to detach it, and the vessels of 
that membrane were completely injected ^^'ith blood. It 
was united from point to point by membranous bridles to the 
pia mater. 

3. Between the pia mater and the convolutions of the brain 
were found many globules of air^ with exudation of lymph and 
numerous adhesions. 

4. The great falx of the dura mater was firmly attached 
to both hemispheres by membranous bridles, and its vessels 
were turgid with blood. 

5. On dividing the medullary substance of the brain, the 
exudation of blood from the minute vessels produced specks 
of a bright red colour. An extravasation of about 2 oz. of 
bloody serum was found beneath the potis Varioli, at the 
base of the hemispheres ; and in the two superior or lateral 
ventricles a similar extravasation was discovered at the base 
of the cerebellum, and the usual effects of inflammation were 
observable throiighout the cerebrum. 

6. The medullary substance was in more than ordinary 
proportion to the corticle, and of the usual consistency. The 
cerebrum and the cerebellum, without the membranes, weigh- 
ed 61bs. {mediche). 

7- The channels or sulci of the Ijlood-vessels on the internal 
surface of the cranium were more numerous than usual, but 
small. 

8. The lungs were perfectly healthy, but of much more 
than ordinary volume {gigantiselle). 

9. Between the pericardium and the heart there was about 
an ounce of lymph, and the heart itself was of greater size 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. Ixxxi 

than usual; but its muscular substance was extremely 
flaccid. 

10. The liver was much smaller than usual^ as was also 
the gall-bladder, which contained air instead of bile. The 
intestines were of a deep bilious hue, and distended with 
air. 

11. The kidneys were very large but healthy, and the 
vesica relatively small. 

" Judging from the observations marked 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 
7, 10, and 11, the physician who attended Lord Byron 
concludes, that he might probably have recovered from 
his illness, had he submitted to the loss of blood which 
was recommended at the commencement of the disease. 
He thinks, however, that he can declare with tolerable 
certainty, from the appearances 1, 8, and 9, that his 
Lordship could not have survived many years, on ac- 
count of his habitual exposure to the causes of disease, 
both from his habitual mental exertion, his excessive 
occupation, and a constant state of indigestion." 

From this account of the examination of the body, 
it is plain that Lord Byron died in consequence of in- 
flammation of the brain; at least, if the appearances really 
were as described. The cause of the attack was clearly 
his exposure to wet and cold on the 9th of April. By 
this exposure fever was excited. His brain was predis- 
posed to disease, as is evident from the attack of con- 
vulsion from which he was scarcely yet recovered ; and 
the fever once produced, excited inflammation in the 
brain the more readily on account of the predisposition 
to disease which had already been manifested in. that 



Ixxxii APPENDIX. 

organ. That he might have been saved by early and 
copious bleeding, and other appropriate remedies, is 
certain. That his medical attendants had not, until it 
was too late to do any thing, any suspicion of the true 
nature of his disease, we are fully satisfied. Nothing 
is knowft of any intention to bleed until the 15th, that 
is, the 6th day of the disease, and then one of the medi- 
cal attendants expresses in a very vague manner his 
opinion of the remedy : " it might be of service, but it 
could be deferred till the next day." Could any man, 
who was led by the symptoms to suspect such a state of 
the organ as was revealed by inspection, thus speak ? 
When Dr. Bruno, in his report, speaks of taking blood 
in the early stage " in grande abbondanza," he speaks 
instructed by dissection. Were we to place implicit con- 
fidence in the accuracy of the report of Lord Byron's 
attendant, we should doubt, from all the circumstances, 
his having proposed, in an early stage, copious bleed- 
ing to his patient, and his Lordship's refusal to submit 
to the treatment. He called his complaint a cold, and 
said the patient would be well in a few days, and no 
physician would propose copious bleeding under such cir- 
cumstances. It seems to us that Lord Byron's penetra- 
tion discovered their hesitation, and suspected the igno- 
rance by which it was caused, and that his suspicion was 
but too well founded. Without further evidence we 
should disbelieve in the total obliteration of the sutures; 
and we may add, that all the inferences deduced from 
the alleged appearances in 1, 8, 9, &c. are absurd; they 



LAST MOMENTS OF LOUD BYRON. Ixxxiii 

do not aiFord evidence enough to Vi^arrant the slightest 
conjecture relative to the length or the brevity of life. 
It is, however, but fair to add, that Lord Byron always 
had a very decided objection to being bled ; and Dr. 
Bruno's own testimony, which we have already quoted, 
ought to have its due weight. That Lord Byron should 
have had an insurmountable objection to bleeding is ex- 
traordinary, and it in some measure confirms what he 
himself used to say, that he had no fear of death, but 
a perfect horror of pain. 

Lord Byron's death was a severe blow to the people 
of Messolonghi, and they testified their sincere and deep 
sorrow by paying his remains all the honours their state 
could by any possibility invent and carry into execution. 
But a people, when really animated by the passion of 
grief, requires no teaching or marshalling into the ex- 
pression of its feelings. The rude and military mode in 
which the inhabitants and soldiers of Messolonghi, and 
of other places, vented their lamentations over the body 
of their deceased patron and benefactor, touches the 
heart more deeply than the vain and empty pageantry 
of much more civilized states. 

Immediately after the death of Lord Byron, and it 
was instantly known, for the whole town was watching 
the event. Prince Mavrocordatos published the follow- 
ing proclamation. 



Ixxxiv 



APPENDIX. 



'Ap. 1185.) 
nP0^12PINH AIOIKHSIS THS EAAAAOS. 



Ai 



TcapoucFUi ^oipfMOG-vvoi rifjupui eyivuv S<a oXoug Tifioig 

'O Aop5 No:A By^cov dcTrspciis ari^spov i\g tyjv ukXriV 
^ooYjv, zs-Bp) rag hvls-Kct. wpa; tyjv sa-TTspuv fx,SToi fx(a.v oca^evciuv 
(pAoyjfixoy psufxccTixov 7rvp=Tov 10 r,ij,?pu>v. 

yj xoiv:^ xuTri:p=nx. eXsysy ocrrjv ■^X/vJ/iv Y,aQixv:TO r) xupolx 
okcov, y.fxi o\oi [XiKpoi [ji=yu\Cii, ccv^psg xa) yvvocix;:, 
vixYipie'^Oi UTTO rrjv ^Aj\|//v, eXr,<r[JiOvri(T(XTs to Tla(r^u. 

'H fspYjCig uvTOu Tou AufXTTpou UTtoxsifj.ivQv sivui 
/3:'/3aja TToXXoi c<.l<rSavTiKY} 8/ oAtjv t^v 'EAAaSa^ aAAa 
slvcci TTOA'J 'TTBpKTQTEpov a^io^pr,vriTo: Sia atrr^^v t^v FloAiv, 
t:^v OTToiav r}ya7rY,<rs dia.(pspovTocc, xai sic ayri^v eTroXtroypa^rjy 
xu) OL-no^amy fa.Q;poiv :<;^5V av to e^spsv rj Trepifctcng vu 
ysvfi xct) TTpocFui'Kixthg cruu.[MBTO^og twv xivIvvodv TYig. 

KaSevag (SXsttsi epLfrpog too rag TrAoucr/a; Trpog to 
xoivov evspyscrlug too, xx) fxrjTS sfravas piriTS ttccusi xuvslg 
fxs suyvcvixovu xca uXr,^ivr}y (paovrjV ax tov O'^Ofxa^Yj 
eu£pyeT>jv. 



GREEK PROCLAMATION. 



Ixxxv 



"Ecti$ ov voi yvc/ofOTToiYjQstjv otl diuTuyoi) T% 'EQviKrjs 
I A<o/}f»3(rs«;j Trsp) uvtov tov TroXv^p-^vriTOU cuja/SavTOj , 
I Ayvaftsj Tou vtt' ap. 314 koc) >j]U,. 15 'OKTca^piou 

I Aiararrsraj, 

la'.) AiipioVf fjt^oXig dvurelXYi 6"llXiog, vol 'C7s<rovv otTro 
I TO jUrgyaAov Koivovofua-iov rou rsl^ovg uiiT^g Trjg UoKsoo^ 
I 37 KavoviaTj ( ]u,/a to naSe AstttoV;,) xaTa tov otpi^iiov 

I T«3V ^pOVMV TYl^ KdiYl$ TOV OlTToQaVOVTOg. 

I jS'.) ''OXa Tct xoiva (movpysiuy hoi rpel$ ^[J^spag kutsc 
V(rvvsy(steiv, v« xXsktSouv, siJiiTSpis^oi^ivcov kxitmv ycpiTYjplooy.l 
I y',) Na xXsicrfioDv oA« Ta epyug-Yipioi Ihto^ h>csivooVy ottou 
I TTwXoOvTai T/50(pa»5 xa) laT^ixa* ?£«» vol Xsl^ovv roc [xovcriKoi 
I rironyvvidioif ol <ruvsiQKrfji.svoi slg uvTotg Tag y^[jt,6pois "XJ^poi, 
I va 'Kctvcrovv to, i^oiyoTroTiu slg toL Kpuo'OTTooXsloCy x.a\ KuQe 

uWo slhs XSIVOV Ss(potVTW[JI.CiTQS, 

I 8.) Na ysvjf 21 Yi^epug VsyixTj 7rsvQi(popiu. 
e'.) Na yevouv 67r/>c^S£ioi Ssijcre^j slg o\us Tag sxx\Yi(riocs, 

'Ev Ms(ro\oyyioo tyjv 7 'ATrpiXXtov 1824. 

T. ^. A. MoivpoKop^oiTog, 

I 'O Tp(Xll[JI,UTSV$ 

I Feco^yioj Upai^vjg, 



'Ek tJjj TvTToypuiplus A. Mso-^evs-oj^, 



1XXX\T APPENDIX. 



(translation.) 

Art. 1185. Provisional Government of Western Greece. 

The present day of festivity and rejoicing is turned into 
one of sorrow and mourning. 

The Lord Noel Byron departed this life at eleven o'clock 
last night, after an illness of ten days ; his death being caused 
by an inflammatory fever. Such was the effect of his Lord- 
ship's illness on the public mind, that all classes had forgot- 
ten their usual recreations of Easter, even before the afllict- 
ing end was apprehended. 

The loss of this illustrious individual is undoubtedly to be 
deplored by all Greece ; but it must be more especially a sub- 
ject of lamentation at Messolonghi, where his generosity has 
been so conspicuously displayed, and of which he had even 
become a citizen, with the ulterior determination of partici- 
pating in all the dangers of the war. 

Every body is acquainted with the beneficent acts of his 
Lordship, and none can cease to hail his name as that of a 
real benefactor. 

Until, therefore, the final determination of the national 
Government be known, and by virtue of the powers with 
which it has been pleased to invest me : I hereby decree, 

Ist. To-morrow morning at daylight, 37 minute-guns shall 
be fired from the grand battery, being the number which cor- 
responds with the age of the illustrious deceased. 

2d. All the public offices, even to the tribunals, are to 
remain closed for three successive days. 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. IxXXvii 

3d. All the shops^ except those in which provisions or 
medicines are sold, will also be shut : and it is strictly 
enjoined, that every species of public amusement, and other 
demonstrations of festivity at Easter, may be suspended. 

4th. A general mourning will be observed for twenty-one 
days. 

5th. Prayers and a funeral service are to be offered up in 
all the churches. 

(Signed) A. Mavrocordatos. 

GiORGius Praidis, 
Give7i at Messolonghi, Secretary, 

this 19M day of April, 1824. 



There appears to have been considerable difficulty in 
fixing upon the place of interment. No directions had 
been left by Lord Byron — and no one could speak 
as to the wishes he might have entertained on the 
point. After the embalmment, the first step was to 
send the body to Zante, where the authorities were 
to decide as to its ultimate destination. Lord Sidney 
Osborne, a relation of Lord Byron by marriage, the 
Secretary of the Senate at Corfu, repaired to Zante to 
meet it. It was his wish, and that of some others, that 
his Lordship should be interred in that island — a pro- 
position which was received with indignation and most 
decidedly opposed by the majority of the English. By 
one it was proposed that his remains should have been 
deposited in the temple of Theseus, or in the Parthenon, 



Ixxxviii APPENDIX. 

at xVtlicny ; and as some importance might have been at- 
tached to the circumstance by the Greeks, and as there 
is something consolatory in tlie idea of Lord Byron 
reposing at last in so venerable a spot, thus re-con- 
secrating, as it were, the sacred land of the Aiis and the 
Muses, we cannot but lament tliat the measure was not 
listened to. Ulysses sent an express to Messolonghi, 
to solicit that his ashes might be laid in Athens ; the 
body had then, liowever, reached Zante, and it appear- 
ing to be the almost unanimous wish of the English 
that it should be sent to England, for public burial in 
Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's, the Ilesident of the 
Island yielded; the Florida was taken up for that 
purpose — and the whole English public know the re- 
sult. 

It was not only at Messolonghi, but throughout the 
whole of Greece, that the death of Lord Byron was felt 
as a calamity in itself, and a ])ad omen for the future. 
Lord Byron went to the Greeks not under the same cir- 
cumstances that any other man of ecpial genius might 
have done. He had been the poet of Greece — more 
than any other man he had turned the attention of Eu- 
rope on Modern Greece. By his elo(|uent and spirit- 
stirring strains, he had himself powerfully co-operated 
in raising the enthusiasm of regeneration which now 
reigns in Greece. All this gave to his arrival there, to 
use the phrase of a letter written while he was expected, 
something like the character "of the coming of a Mes- 
siah."' Proportionate, doubtless, was the disappoint- 



LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. Ixxxix 

ment, grief, and depression, when his mission ended 
before he had effected any thing of importance.— For- 
tunately the success of Greece depends not upon the 
efforts of any single man. Her fortune is sure, and must 
be made by the force of uncontrollable circumstances ; 
by the character of the country, by the present ignorance 
and the former brutality of its oppressors, by Greek in- 
genuity, dexterity, and perseverance, traits stamped upon 
them by ages of servitude, now turned with a spirit of 
stern revenge upon those who raade such qualities 
necessary — by the fortunate accidents which kept a host 
of consummate generals in the character of bandit 
robbers and shepherd chiefs, watching the moment when 
they might assume a more generous trade, and on a 
larger scale revenge the wrongs of a race of mountain- 
warriors. — By these, and a multitude of other causes 
which might be enumerated, the fate of Greece is cer- 
tain. We repeat with the most earnest assurance to 
those who still doubt, and with the most intimate know- 
ledge of all the facts which have taken place, that the 
ultimate independence of Greece is secure. The only 
question at stake is the rapidity of the events which may 
lead to so desirable a consummation — so desirable to 
those who delight in the happiness and improvement of 
mankind — so delightful to those who have the increased 
prosperity of England at heart. It is here that Lord 
Byron might have been useful ; by healing divisions, 
by exciting dormant energies, by ennobling and ce 

3 G 



XC APPENDIX. 

lebrating the cause, he might perhaps luive accelerated 
the progress of Greece towards the wished-for goal. 
But even here, though his life was not to be spared, his 
death may be useful — the death-place of such a man 
must be in itself illustrious. The Greeks will not des- 
pair when they think how great a sacrifice has been 
made for them : the eyes of all Europe are turned to 
the spot in which he breathed his last. No man who 
knows that Lord Byron's name and fame were more 
universal than those of any other then or now existing, 
can be indifferent to the cause for which he spent his 
last energies — on which he bent his last thoughts — the 
cause for which he died. 



( xci ) 



FUNERAL ORATION ON LORD NOEL BYRON, 

COMPOSED AND DELIVERED 

BY M. SPIIIIDION THICOUPL 
(Printed hy Order of Government. y 

Messolonghi, lOth April, 
Thursday/ in Easter Week, 1824. 

Unlooked-foe event ! deplorable misfortune ! But a 
short time has elapsed since the people of this deeply 
suffering country welcomed, with unfeigned joy and 
open arms, this celebrated individual to their bosoms ; 
to-day, overwhelmed with grief and despair, they bathe 
his funeral couch with tears of bitterness, and mourn 
over it with inconsolable affliction. On Easter Sunday, 
the happy salutation of the day, " Christ is risen,"" re- 
mained but half pronounced on the lips of every Greek ; 
and as they met, before even congratulating one another 
on the return of that joyous day, the universal demand 
was, " How is Lord Byron ?" Thousands, assembled in 
the spacious plain outside of the city to commemorate 
the sacred day, appeared as if they had assembled for 
the sole purpose of imploring the Saviour of the world 
to restore to health him who was a partaker with us in 
our present struggle for the deliverance of our native 

land. 

3 G 2 



\CI1 AIPKXDIX. 

And hon- is it possi])le tliat any licart should re- 
main unmoved, any lip closed upon the prcFcnt oc- 
casion ? Was ever Greece in greater want of assistance 
than when the ever-to-be-lamented Lord Byron, at the 
peril of his life, crossed over to JMessolonghi ? Then, 
and ever since he has been with us, his liberal hand ha* 
been opened to our necessities — necessities which our 
own poverty would have otherwise rendered irremediable. 
How many and mucb greater benefits did we not ex- 
pect from him !— and to-dav, alas ! to-day, the unrelent- 
ing grave closes over him and our hopes ! 

Residing out of Greece, and enjoying all the pleasures 
and luxuries of Europe, he might have contributed 
materially to the success of our cause, without coming 
personally amongst us ; and this would have been suffi- 
cient for us, — for the well-proved ability and profound 
judgment of our Governor, the President of the Senate, 
would have ensured our safety with the means so sup- 
plied. But if this was sufficient for us, it was not so for 
Lord Byron. Destined ])y nature to uphold the rights 
of man whenever he saw them trampled upon ; born in 
a free and enlightened country ; early taught, by reading 
the works of our ancestors, (which indeed teach all \\ho 
can read them,) not only what man is, but what he ought 
to be, and what he may be — he saw the persecuted and 
enslaved Greek determine to break the heavy chains with 
v.'hich he was bound, and to convert the iron into sharp- 
edged swords, that lu^ might regain by force what force 
had torn fionj hini ! He (lord B.) siiw, and leaving 



FUNERAL ORATION. ycill 

all the pleasures of Europe, he came to share our sufFei- 
ings and our hardships ; assisting us, not only with his 
wealth, of which he was profuse ; not only with his judg- 
ment, of which he has given us so many salutary ex- 
amples ; — but with his sword, which he was preparing 
to unsheath against our barbarous and tyrannical oppres- 
sors. He came, in a word, according to the testimony of 
those who were intimate with him, with the determination 
to die in Greece and for Greece ! How, therefore, can 
we do otherwise than lament with heartfelt sorrow the 
loss of such a man ! How can we do otherwise than 
bewail it as the loss of the whole Greek nation ! 

Thus far, my friends, you have seen him liberal, 
generous, courageous — a true Philhellenist ; and you have 
seen him as your benefactor. This is, indeed, a sufficient 
cause for your tears, but it is not sufficient for his honour ; 
it is not sufficient for the greatness of the undertaking 
in which he had engaged. He, whose death we are 
now so deeply deploring, was a man who, in one great 
branch of literature, gave his name to the age in which 
we live : the vastness of his genius and the richness of his 
fancy did not permit him to follow the splendid though 
beaten track of the literary fame of the ancients ; he 
chose a new road — a road which ancient prejudice had 
endeavoured, and was still endeavouring, to shut against 
the learned of Europe : but as long as his writings live, 
and they must live as long as the world exists, this 
road will remain always open ; for it is, as well as the 
other, a sure road to true knowledge. I will not detain 



XCIV APPENDIX. 

you at the present time by expressing all the respect 
and enthusiasm with ^vhi(■]l tlie perusal of his writings 
has always inspired mc, and whicli indeed I feel much 
more powerfully now than at any other period. The 
learned men of all Europe celebrate him, and have 
celebrated him ; and all ages will celebrate the poet of 
our age, for he was born for all Europe and for all ages. 

One consideration occurs to me, as striking and true as 
it is applicable to the present state of our country : listen 
to it, my friends, with attention, that you may make it 
your o^v-n, and that it may become a generally acknow- 
ledged truth. 

There have been many great and splendid nations 
in the world, but few have been the epochs of their true 
glorv : one phenomenon, I am inclined to believe, is 
wanting in the history of these nations, — and one, the 
possibility of the appearance of which the all-considering 
mind of the philosopher has much doubted. Almost all 
the nations of the world have fallen from the hands of 
one master into those of another ; some have been 
benefited, others have been injured by the change ; but 
the eye of the historian has not yet seen a nation en- 
slaved by barbarians, and more particularly by barbarians 
rooted for ages in their soil — has not yet seen, I say, such 
a people throw off their slavery unassisted and alone. 
This is the phenomenon ; and now, for the first time in 
the history of the world, we witness it in Greece — yes, in 
Greece alone ! The philosopher beholds it from afar, 



FUNERAL ORATION. XCV 

and his doubts are dissipated ; the historian sees it, and 
prepares his citation of it as a new event in the fortunes 
of nations ; the statesman sees it, and becomes more ob- 
servant and more on his guard. Such is the extra- 
ordinary time in which we hve. My friends, the in- 
surrection of Greece is not an epoch of our nation alone ; 
it is an epoch of all nations : for, as I before observed, 
it is a phenomenon which stands alone in the political 
history of nations. 

The great mind of the highly gifted and much lament- 
ed Byron observed this phenomenon, and he wished to 
unite his name with our glory. Other revolutions have 
happened in his time, but he did not enter into any of 
them — he did not assist any of them; for their character 
and nature were totally different: the cause of Greece 
alone was a cause worthy of him whom all the learned 
[men] of Europe celebrate. Consider then, my friends, 
consider the time in which you live — in what a struggle 
you are engaged ; consider that the glory of past ages 
admits not of comparison with yours: the friends of 
liberty, the philanthropists, the philosophers of all 
nations, and especially of the enlightened and generous 
Enghsh nation, congratulate you, and from afar rejoice 
with you ; all animate you ; and the poet of our age, 
already crowned with immortality, emulous of your 
glory, came personally to your shores, that he might, 
together with yourselves, wash out with his blood the 
marks of tyranny from our polluted soil. 



xcvi Arrr.NDix. 

Born ill the f;rcat capital of l:ai<;laiul,* liis descent 
noble, on the side of both his father and his mother, 
wliat unfeigned joy did his ))hilhellenick heart feel, when 
our poor city, in token of our f^ratitude, inscribed hit 
name among the number of her citizens ! In the agonies 
of death ; yes, at the moment when eternity appeared 
before him ; as he was hngering on the brink of mortal 
and immortal life; when all the material world ai)peared 
but as a speck in the great works of Divine Omnipotence ; 
in that awful hour, but two names dwelt upon the lips 
of this illustrious individual, leaving all the world besides 
— the names of his only and much beloved daughter, 
and of Greece : these two names, deeply engraven on 
his heart, even the moment of death could not efface. 
" My daughter !"" he said ; " Greece !'' he exclaimed ; 
and his spirit passed away. What Grecian heart will 
not be deeply affected as often as it recalls this 
moment ! 

Our tears, my friends, will be grateful, very grateful 
to his shade, for they are the tears of sinc\?re affection ; 
but much more grateful will be our deeds in the cause of 
our country, which, though removed from us, he will 
observe from the heavens, of which his virtues have 
doubtless opened to him the gates. This return alone 



* This translation is by a Greek at Messolonirhi, from the 
original modern Greek Gazette. No alterations have been made, 
though a few suggest themselves ; one of which is, that Lord 
Byron was not born in London. 



FUNEKAI. ORATION. XCvii 

does he require from us for all his munificence ; this 
reward for his love towards us ; this consolation for his 
sufferings in our cause ; and this inheritance for the loss 
of his invaluable life. When your exertions, my friends, 
shall have liberated us from the hands which have 
so long held us down in chains ; from the hands which 
have torn from our arms, our property, our brothers, 
our children; — then will his spirit rejoice, then will his 
shade be satisfied ! — Yes, in that blessed hour of our 
freedom, the Archbishop will extend his sacred and free 
hand, and pronounce a blessing over his venerated tomb ; 
the young warrior sheathing his sword, red with the 
blood of his tyrannical oppressors, will strew it with 
laurel ; the statesman will consecrate it with his oratory ; 
and the poet, resting upon the marble, will become 
doubly inspired : the virgins of Greece (whose beauty 
our illustrious fellow-citizen Byron has celebrated in 
many of his poems,) without any longer fearing con- 
tamination from the rapacious hands of our oppressors, 
crowning their heads with garlands, will dance round it, 
and sing of the beauty of our land, which the poet of 
our age has already commemorated with such grace 
and truth. But what sorrowful thought now presses 
upon my mind ! My fancy has carried me away ; I had 
pictured to myself all that my heart could have desired ; 
I had imagined the blessing of our Bishops, the hymns 
and laurel crowns, and the dance of the virgins of Greece 
round the tomb of the benefactor of Greece; — but this 
tomb will not contain his precious remains ; the tomb 



XCVIU APPENDIX. 

will remain void ; but a few clays more will his body 
remain on the face of our land — of his new chosen 
country; it cannot be given over to our arms; it must be 
borne to his own native land, which is lionoured by his 
birth. 

Oh Daughter ! most dearly beloved by him, your 
arms will receive him ; your tears will bathe the tomb 
which shall contain his body ; — and the tears of the 
orphans of Greece will be shed over the urn containing 
his precious heart, and over all the land of Greece, for 
all the land of Greece is his tomb. As in the last 
moment of his life you and Greece were alone in his 
heart and upon his lips, it was but just that she (Greece) 
should retain a share of the precious remains. Mes-^ 
solonghi, his country, will ever watch over and protect 
with all her strength the urn containing his venerated 
heart, as a symbol of his love towards us. All Greece, 
clothed in mourning and inconsolable, accompanies the 
procession in which it is borne; all ecclesiastical, civil and 
mihtary honours attend it ; all his fellow-citizens of 
Messolonghi and fellow-countrymen of Greece follow it, 
crowning it with their gratitude and bedewing it with 
their tears ; it is blessed by the pious benedictions and 
prayers of our Archbishop, Bishop, and all our Clergy. 
Learn, noble Lady ! learn that chieftains bore it on their 
shoulders, and carried it to the church ; thousands of 
Greek soldiers lined the way through which it passed, 
with the muzzles of their muskets, which liad destroyed 
so many tyrants, pointed towards the ground, as though 



FUNERAL OUATION. XCIX 

they would war against that earth which was to deprive 
them for ever of the sight of their benefactor; — all this 
crowd of soldiers, ready at a moment to march against 
the implacable enemy of Christ and man, surrounded 
the funeral couch, and swore never to forget the sacri- 
fices made by your Father for us, and never to allow the 
spot where his heart is placed to be trampled upon by 
barbarous and tyrannical feet. Thousands of Christian 
voices were in a moment heard, and the temple of the 
Almighty resounded with supplications and prayers that 
his venerated remains might be safely conveyed to his 
native land, and that his soul might rest where the 
righteous alone find rest. 



APPENDIX. 



ODE TO THE MEMORY OF LORD BYROX. 

FllOM A GREEK JOl RN-\L. 



KKud^^iooj rj^ii Y;pooaiv 6 (rrpuTOS 
niKfoog KuTTOUVT cil vj/up^aj tcLv eWrjvcfJV 
T' ux-ovsi (lUKfoQcV Koci youp e^^pog 

'O ^/Aoj ^^^^y ttXyjv [j,o/\i: TOV iiio'/, 

'Sx.a.TTTOUV xkuloVTc^ TOV TU(fOV OCVTOV. 

'l5ou TO TsXog evOo^cjov e\7ridajv 

Kci) TO TpO-TTUlOV ^OCVUTOU (TxXripOU. 

^HA^c vu efXTrvzUO'' cug uXXos TvpTu'iog, 
E/c xaSr a-Tr,$o§ TroXeixoov opixvjv 

TlXrjv (^:V ! 6 B«^5o^ sKitldoic [xutuIm^ 
'ISou [xevei sl$ txlooviov cticotd^v. 

'12$ dzvhpOV XzIt' OTt' 6X0iJ/X£< fjisyuhcjos 

Trjv x.opu:ptfV (j.ou(ri}cou Tlupvcc<r(rov, 

NOv TrpOTTo'^MV ^hlpOUCrOLTOV TO KUWO^ 

Ovoyj TO sppi^' c(V5fjt.ov a^olpov. 

'KWu; ! euv to o-cofxaT r; ' \yy\la 
Na (pip e»> [JLV^fJiCi KftTO. TtUTpiKOV 

EItts, Mo'jo'aiv CO [xriTipoi yXvKslu, 

Elvai Tfxvov /xou 6 uiOj' tu)V MoycrcI'v. 

KaTa<ppova)V rcbv spuiToov tou^ ^prjVOv$ 

'E(^)jr' e^'w Y,pa)CJov tov; xiv^uvcug 
Tx^ov ocg e^' ripoooov il; tyjv yY,v. 



y 



ODE, &C. ci 



TRANSLATION. 

FROM THE LITERARY GAZETTE. 



Victorious hymns no longer court the ear ; 

The hosts of Greece the clouds of grief oppress ; 
The hardy warrior drops th' unwonted tear. 

And distant foes exult at our distress. 

He came to succour — ^but, alas ! how soon 
With him the light of all our prospects fled ! 

Our sun has sought the darkness of the tomb. 
For Byron, friend of liberty, is dead ! 

A new Tyrtaeus gladden'd all our land. 

Inspiring ev'ry soul with ancient fire ; 
But now, alas! death chills his friendly hand. 

And endless silence sits upon his lyre. 

So some fair tree which waved its shady head, 

And graced the heights where famed Parnassus join'd. 

Is torn by tempests from its earthy bed. 

And yields its beauties scatter'd to the wind. 

Oh, Greece ! should England claim her right to lay 
His ashes where his valiant sires have lain. 

Do thou, sweet mother of the Muses ! say 
That thou alone those ashes shouldst retain ! 

Domestic joy he nobly sacrificed. 

To shun the path of pleasure was his doom — 
These for heroic dangers he despised ; 

Then Greece, the land of heroes, be his tovih I 






( cii ) 



LAST LINES COMPOSED BY LORD BYRON. 



Messolonghi, .lanuanf 22, 1824- 

'' ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR 



Tis time this heart shoukl be unmoved. 

Since others it has ceased to move ; 
Yet, thougli I cannot he beloved. 

Still let me love. 

My days are in the yello^^' leaf. 

The flowers and fruits of love are gone, — 
The worm, the canker, and the grief. 

Are mine alone. 

The fire that in my bosom preys 

Is like to some volcanic isle ; 
No torch is kindled at its blaze — 

A funeral pile. 

The hope, the fears, the jealous care, 

Th' exalted portion of the pain 
And power of love, I cannot share. 

But wear the chain. 

Bnt 'tis not here — it is not here — 

Such thoughts should shake my soul ; nor now- 
Where glory seals the hero's bier. 

Or binds his brow. 



APPENDIX. cm 

The sword, the banner, and the field. 

Glory and Greece around us see ; 
The Spartan borne upon his shield 

Was not more free. 

Awake ! not Greece — she is awake — 

Awake my spirit ! — think through whom 
My life-blood tastes its parent lake. 

And then strike home ! 

I tread reviving passions down. 

Unworthy manhood — unto thee 
Indifferent should the smile or frown 
Of beauty be. 

If thou regret thy youth, why live ? 

The land of honourable death 
Is here — up to the field and give 

Away thy breath ! 

Seek out — ^less often sought than found — 

A soldier's grave, for thee the best ; 
Then look around, and choose thy ground. 
And take thy rest. 



THE END. 



LONDON : 
IMilNTED liY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET 



Vi 



■ ' U A / 






INTERESTING WORKS 

LATELY PUBLISHED UY HENRY COLBURN. 



1. MEMOIRS of GOETHE, Author of " Werter," 
** Faust," &c. Written by himself. In 2 vols. 8vo. with a 
fine Portrait, price 24s. 

" Goetlie lias justly been classed by tb? critics of Germany witb '.he mastcr-niinds 
of modern Europe — with Shakspcare, willi Dante, and witb Cervantes : not as pos- 
sessing powers of a sinriilar kind, but as enjoying, like those great men, the repu- 
tation of being, beyond ail compaiison, the first of bis ape and country.'' 

2. THE PRIVATE LIFE and CONVERSATIONS of 
the EMPEROR xNAPOLEON. By the Count de las Cases. 
A New Edition, compressed into 4 handsome Volumes, and illus- 
trated with Portraits of Napoleon and Las Cases; a View of the 
House in which Napoleon was born at Ajaccio in Corsica; four 
coloured views of St. Helena, taken on the spot ; besides Maps, 
Plans, &c. 

The price of this New Edition is reduced to 13s. per vol. or 
2l. 12s. the complete work, in French or English ; and as it is 
universally acknowledged to form the most complete epitome of 
the Life, Character, and Opinions of this extraordinary man, it 
is presumed that there arc few who will not be desirous of possess- 
ing it. 

3. JOURNAL of a RESIDENCE in ASHANTEE. By 
Joseph "*"PUIS, Esq. late his Britannic Majesty's Envoy and 
Consul for i..at kingdom. In 1 vnl. -I to. with a Map and 15 Plates, 
price 2l. 12s. 6d. boards. 

« ^ve recommend this work as one of the most interesting that has appeared 
for some time ; it embraces a valuable account of Western Africa, and a seri-s 
of gcographiral documents of great importance, from the Arabic. These papers 
throw much light on the subject of African discovery, and will be of great use to 
future travellers. From the situation Mr. Dupuis held, and the facilities he pos- 
teised, he is enabled to give information inaccessible to other* ; ftpd the respect- 
ability of his character is a guarantee for the truth of his str.tements. The 
account of his mission to the King of Ashantee is highly interesting, as is hii 
general description of the country." — Star, 

4. GEORGE THE THIRD, his COURT and FAMILY; 

the Pkksonal History of his l.\te Majesty. The Third 
Edition, comprising various important Additions, handsomely 
printed in '2 vols. «vo. and cmbelli.^hcd with 18 Portraits, 285. 
boards. 

This work will Ik tnni.d . , abo.in.l in relations of lb c pvculiar traits ci cha- 
racter for which his Majesty was fo distinguished during h.s long and erentful 
wlgn, and which have rendered his personal history «o remarkaljly alti-aclive. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



014 455 631 8 



